For Who You Are
by The BatThing
Summary: Bruce Wayne has two kids he never told anyone about... The end has come, and so Bruce and Tim find themselves making ends meet and finally talking it out. Thanks to everyone for your support through this! Ariel edited for me, so much thanks towards her
1. Chapter One

"So here we are in the same old spot, knowing something needs to happen but our mouths are locked. Tongue tied, closed tight, sealed shut, yep. I tried hard but it just wouldn't come up. It's on the tip of my tongue; it's in the front of my mind, yet the words were still so hard for to find. Finally the reality of things to come pushed me to the edge. I jumped off the cliff into the abyss as I said: I'm not trying to be a nuisance; I just think we can do better than this. That was simply my two cents, you can take it or leave it."

Nuisance_ John Rueben and Matty T._

_**For Who You Are**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter One:**

Chilling, there was no other way to describe it. He knew perfectly well that today could end in so many different ways. He had told no one, not even Alfred of what he was about to do. It just seemed like he had escaped it all these years, buried it so deep, and wanted it to remain forever that way. But she died, and now there was nowhere and no one to turn to. He was all there was.

He had taken in Tim on a second thought, more for Tim's sake than anything he supposed. It wasn't his style to do something good out of the love. It was more of keeping the city together, and not let anyone feel what he had.

He took in Dick for the relationship they already held. Both had seen their parents murdered before their very eyes, both had been so young, and both had been so innocent. It was on an impulse, something he didn't have to think twice about doing. For Tim it had been different, he hadn't wanted Tim.

At least not at first, Tim was to spirited and much to happy for Bruce's liking. He was horrible with both manners and grades, he cursed, fought, never listened. It just wasn't what Bruce called the perfect relationship that he and Dick had held all those years ago, before the accident.

Bruce Wayne gripped the steering wheel as he shifted the car into reverse, and watched the small arrow point from the 'P' to the 'R'. He slowly began backing out of the garage in his Camero, carefully watching with his shifting eyes.

He never expected with his entire playboy act to actually have kids, and he had thought that after Peter, he would have stopped. But she came back to him, and once more they conceived a young girl, Crystal.

Bruce glared out the rearview mirror with his icy blue eyes. Crystal would be turning 4 in just a few days, and Peter was already 15. Connie had died just last week, and Bruce knew enough to attend the funeral, and then head home. But when no living relatives could be found, he was summoned. This was a nightmare.

"As if Tim wasn't enough." Bruce growled, thoughts wandering. "How could I have been so stupid to let this happen?" He released a thin stream of air from his nose and shut his eyes momentarily.

'ThuD!'

Bruce's eyes flashed open and he jerked his head up to the roof of the car at where there was now a large dent.

A light laughter cut through the air followed by a curse, and Bruce watched with a glare as Tim dropped beside his car, in hand a skateboard, looking awkwardly at the sky. The boy slowly looked over to where Bruce was and pretended to be in shock by jumping back a little.

"Odd weather, eh Bruce?" Tim suggested, looking once more at the bright blue sky, not a cloud in sight. "I think a few hail clumps hit your car… er, there is a dent Bruce."

The older man unbuckled and climbed out, looking at the roof of the garage and saw Dick, trying to hide.

Bruce heard Tim whisper. "Pretend you don't see him." And Dick, being the natural actor, looked casually away, as if he didn't.

"You were skateboarding off the roof of the garage?" Bruce demanded, turning to Tim.

"Is this a trick question, because I would think the answer is just a little to obvious."

Bruce glared down at his ward.

"Heh, are you going somewhere. Nice car by the way." He nodded to the forest green vehicle then looked back at the sky. "Well, I have homework, and I really think that I should be doing it right about now."

"I think that is a wise choice."

Tim smiled, pride filling his face.

"But one you will never carry out."

"Oh, well, you don't know me then Bruce." Tim explained as Bruce got back in the car. "I am very, um…well. I am whatever I am."

"Homework, done… not done… trouble." Bruce hissed, slipping back into his car.

Tim looked at the sky once more. "Odd weather."

Dick snorted. "Odd indeed."

* * *

Peter stood tall, trying to prove that he could take care of himself and his younger sister who sat crying beside him.

"Stop Crystal." He ordered, looking around. "You want dad to see you like that?"

"I don't want dad. I want mom!" The little girl bawled, burring her face in her backpack and crying as loud as she could.

"Stop! Stop Crystal!" Peter ranted, trying to get the little girl's attention. He did not succeed. His eyes scanned the area and rested on the form of his father. The boy nodded, trying to smile, yet not wanting too.

"Hello Peter, Crystal." Bruce managed as he looked down at the little girl who refused to look up.

"Hey, Dad."

The man nodded, trying to smile, it didn't work. "Crystal hon." He said awkwardly, trying to sound as pleasant as he could. "Are you ready to go home?"

The little girl raised her head and shook it.

"Really, you don't want to come and live with me?" He questioned, going to his knee and picking the girl up and nodding to Peter who simply shrugged and trudged along after.

The 15-year-old boy shoved a hand through his blonde hair that held a slight rusty color to it and blinked. His sister shared his looks. Only her eyes were a brilliant black.

* * *

"This is where you live, Daddy?"

Bruce cleared his throat, not enjoying his newfound name from his daughter, Crystal. "Yes, it is. I showed you pictures of it before. Don't you remember?"

"Dad she was only two." Peter answered for her. "I don't think she can remember."

The little girl shook her head. "I remember."

"No you don't Crystal."

"I do though. It had big towers."

"But the house in plain sight, you just saw it and said." Peter replied, leaning his head back against the seat.

"I do remember." Crystal answered and she pressed her face against the window. "Who is that?"

Bruce glanced at where Dick and Tim where, still on the roof of the garage, being stupid. "Them?"

"Yeah."

"Um, well…" He shook his head, pulling into the garage and sighing. "They are my ... they live with me."

"They are your kids, you can say it." Peter said.

Bruce pushed the car into park. "Not my kids, not really. I was lonely so I got a ward."

"Oh." Crystal let out, looking around. "You have a lot of cars."

Bruce nodded and soon all three were walking out of the garage. Tim and Dick stood on ground, looking oddly at them.

Crystal smiled at them. "Those are your awards Daddy?"

Bruce blinked, but allowed a nod. "My wards, not awards, Crystal."

Tim shook his head as the group stopped in front of him. "Who are these guys?"

"Timothy and Richard, these are my children. Peter and Crystal Wayne." Bruce introduced, looking at Dick. "They will be living with me for now on."

Tim looked Peter over, and glared at the other boy's size. He was the same age more than likely, yet while Tim stood at an unfair 5"1, Peter towered him with the proud height of being 5"8. Not to mention the build. Peter was obviously a football player or something, and Tim looked like he had not a physical muscle in him. Life was so unfair.

"Hi." Peter managed, nodding.

Dick smiled at him, holding out a hand. "Hello."

There was some sort of gust of wind that broke the silence, causing Peter to flip his wrist, offering his hand to be shook by the older before him. His smile was plastered across his face in an awkward manner. As if it was not sure of what it was doing. "Hullo."

Tim blinked, rubbing the back of his head gingerly as he snorted. He wasn't sure what he could say, and whatever he wanted to ask, was not polite to let out before the two newcomers. "Hope you, er, like it here."

"Yeah, yeah." Dick blurted out with a nod. "Yeah…"

Tim rolled his eyes at Dick's answer, and attempt at filling the aperture of silence. "You are how old?" His questioned towards Peter, yet Crystal took the advantage of the moment to speak up, letting her small voice be heard.

"I'm three."

"No joke, I was three once in my life. That's cool Crystal." Dick told the girl with a smile, managing to get all his words out without stuttering in the shock that was now gone.

Crystal smiled, pleased with her victory at making conversation. "Peter is 15."

"Heh, Tim is 16, close age, that's cool." Dick answered once more. As if it was easier to speak to the small person he towered above.

Tim pulled his lips back with pain, and did not look at the taller rival a few feet away. "Yeah, I'm getting along in my years."

"Peter, Crystal… Alfred will want to meet you two and show you to your rooms. So if you will come along with me." He started to walk away, turning his head to see the two gapping boys behind him staring at each other. "Tim and Dick… if you would go to my office and await me there. I will talk to you both in just a few minutes."

Tim nodded, and looked at Dick with wide eyes. "When you think you know a guy, you find out he has kids."

Dick nodded. "Man. I wonder if Alfred knew about those two… and if he didn't…"

Tim joined Dick at muttering a short prayer for their teacher.

_To be continued ..._


	2. Chapter Two

**Author's Note: **You will have to forgive me if I confuse Tim and Peter. I have another series, and Peter Gibson is the main character (his life is much like Tim's, in fact, they could be twins…). So bear with me if I confuse the two and put Peter's name for Tim's. I noticed I did that in the first chapter already.

"Don't write yourself off yet, it's only in your head (feel left out or looked down on). Just try your best, try everything you can. And don't you worry about what they tell themselves."

The Middle _Jimmy Eat World_

_**For Who You Are**_

**By: The BatThing**

**Chapter Two: **

"Don't get mad at me, get mad at him."

"I am not angry with anyone young master, if you will pleasantly hold your tongue for a time so I may speak my apt words."

"It's ok to be angry, it's a natural condition."

"I wonder what those 'apt' words are going to be."

"Master Dick and Master Timothy. I must insist that you listen." Alfred Pennyworth politely instructed as his eyes landed on Bruce who was sitting at his desk, looking at the east wall with a daze. "Master Bruce?"

"Timothy and Richard." Bruce hissed as his eyes twitched as he glanced over to the two. "Enough."

"I was just saying that Alfred was pushing his anger out on me, and not you." Tim smarted off. "Its not like I don't get it enough from you, Bruce."

The larger man got to his feet and Tim sunk down in the armchair, closing his mouth. "That is because you are an adolescent from the wrong side of town who has not a clue how to act. If you are speaking about the argument as of last week, over your D- in Algebra then I suggest that you re-think this conversation."

"Its not like Math is the easiest thing in the world."

"Damnit Tim, you are a sophomore taking Algebra Half for the second time!"

Dick let out a sigh, and tried to smile. His hands crossed each other as he rose to his feet. "Argue some other time when Peter and Crystal have settled in a little more, please."

Tim sneered as he turned his back to Bruce, walking to the door. "Fuck it Dick."

"I am not that way."

Tim snorted in laughter, and soon burst into a grin. "What a bastard child."

"Master Timothy!"

"Timothy Drake and Richard Grayson, if I hear one more-!"

They all froze as the door swung open, and Barbara entered the room, smiling as she closed it. "Hey guys, what is up?"

"Baby, what is up is the right thing to ask." Tim blurted out as he pointed casually to where Bruce stood.

"Oh I get it! What is up his ...!" Dick cried out as he shook his head, covering a smile.

"No rounds tonight Timothy. Get out of here now." Bruce hissed, slamming the file on his desk shut and walking toward the boy, daring him to argue.

Tim's jaw dropped. "Just cause I have a little fun and use a language you don't understand means no rounds?"

Dick grinned deviously. "Can you say freedom of speech?"

* * *

"Check it out, who is that hanging with Timmy?"

Ron Lucas slammed his locker shut, squinting down the hall. "You mean the red head? I don't know. How about you ask Tim."

There was a mere pause and Lee Ray nodded, causing her brown hair to fall out of place. "Ok, come on."

Ron brought his backpack up slightly higher, making it more comfortable to walk. His Spanish background was apparent, and a faint accent rolled off his tongue with each word. "Probably an upper classman, look at how big the kid is."

Tim turned as he heard the familiar voices approach, his smile was small as the confronted him. "Hey guys."

"Hi, who is that?"

Lee snorted as Ron's rash comment and bowed her head slightly.

"Oh, this is Peter, Peter, this is Ron and Lee, two of my friends." Tim explained, pointing around the group. "Peter has ELC with you Ron, you mind taking him when it's time?"

"Not a problem."

"Good."

There was an awkward pause, and the four looked around.

"So, where are you from and how old are you?" Lee questioned with a smile.

"I'm 15." Peter answered, scuffing the toe of his tennis shoe across the floor. "I came from Indiana."

"A lot of corn."

Lee elbowed Ron for his rude comment. "Indy 500, awesome."

Peter just nodded.

"So, you staying here permanently or did your parents just get transferred for a short while?" Lee continued, trying to make conversation where it so badly lacked.

"Permanently I suppose."

"Cool, well, welcome to Gotham."

Peter just nodded.

* * *

"Ahhhh!"

"Please Alfred, do something!" Bruce pleaded as he watched a bawling Crystal a few feet away. "She has been at it ever since Peter left!"

The butler gave a look of distress. "I have tried Master Bruce. Yet she carries on, she misses her brother. It is simple."

Bruce grumbled. "So she'll cry till he comes home?"

"Of course not!"

The two men turned as Barbara entered the room, holding a coke in one hand. It was obvious she had just come up from the cave.

"Crystal." Barbara began as she kneeled beside the smaller girl, picking her up with a brilliant smile. "How about you and I go and watch a movie! You like any movies? Have you ever seen 'The Lion King'?"

Crystal sniffed loudly, then erupted into more tears.

"I told you." Bruce whispered under his breath.

"You told me nothing." Barbara walked out of the room, carrying the smaller child with her. "You will absolutely love 'The Lion King'."

"Master Bruce, perhaps you should head to work, I am sure she will be just fine with the mistress and I."

"You sure?" Bruce demanded to his butler, not willing to go without his word.

Alfred nodded. "Yes Master Bruce, I am sure."

Cries from Crystal could be heard, screaming how she wanted her mommy and Peter.

"Go."

Bruce hesitated. "Maybe this is a bad idea, there are going to be reporters all the kids coming to live with me, and Crystal most of all. They won't want me with a little girl Alfred! You know how they are, they almost wouldn't let me have Dick."

"They allowed you have Master Tim without much edge."

Bruce snorted. "They learned from Dick, Peter and Crystal are a different story."

"One worth telling I am sure Master Bruce."

"What does that mean?"

Alfred remained himself, not taken back by Bruce's harsh words. "If you do not want the children, then you should get them out before they get attached." He turned to face the man. "It should not be about what is best for you sir. It should be about what is best for those two."

Bruce grunted. "I am thinking of them, look at Tim, look at Dick."

"Two fine young men of whom I am very proud of." Alfred spoke.

"Alfred." Bruce began, yet couldn't find words to finish at the moment. "I'm going to work."

"Of course you are sir."

Bruce turned and paced away, walking into the other room where Barbara had, by some miracle, gotten Crystal to stop crying. The two sat watching a Disney classic.

"Bye Bruce, have fun at work." Barbara called after him in a voice all to cheery.

_To be Continued ..._


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three:  
  
"No."  
  
"What do you mean 'no', did you even look around as you were walking outside, it's a wonderful day Timmy, to good to pass by."  
  
Tim Drake rolled his eyes as he slumped forward, blinking at his friend a few inches away. "Lee, it's Peter's first day here. Maybe tomorrow."  
  
The girl rolled her eyes and leaned back. "Don't worry about the new kid, he's having the time of his life. Look, he even had learned to forget us by now. Everyone loves him, he has what it takes to be cool."  
  
"You sorely lack that at times."  
  
Ron lifted his head. "Don't insult my friend without me!"  
  
"Shove it up." The girl told him as she stole a fry, and swallowed it whole. "Fine, we can go out tomorrow, you up to that Ron?"  
  
The boy snorted and waved his Street Law Book in front of her face. "I hate school!"  
  
Lee smiled and nodded to Tim. "Tomorrow sounds good."  
  
"You guys, I wish you luck." Came the words from a boy across the table, he sat extremely close to a girl nearby.  
  
"You don't want to come Hen?"  
  
"It's Henry, ok? And no, I don't enjoy getting my #** kicked more than twice a month. You three risk your own butts." He nodded to the girl next to him, winking. "I think I am learning to enjoy being here anyhow."  
  
"Henry, you do know that this is school and not your bed room." Ron grinned as he dumped his tray near by.  
  
The bell rang through out the lunchroom and the three gathered their books, looking at each other with a knowing glance.  
  
Peter sighed as he sat down next to Tim in the back of the black car. "You get picked up like this every day?" He questioned, looking around.  
  
"Sure, why?" Tim asked, leaning back against the seat.  
  
"Nothing. I was just wondering, it's different for me."  
  
"Yeah, well. it was for me too." The boy whispered as he lowered his head. "Um, you seemed to make a lot of friends. How was it?"  
  
Peter shrugged, handing Tim a paper. "They want me to join the football team, the coach even came up to me. He said he had talked with my old coach, and well." He smiled. "I think I am going to do it, sounds like something worth trying."  
  
There was a streak of jealously that crossed Tim's face as he read the flyer. "Sounds like something worth trying. The only obstacle is Bruce."  
  
"Oh, he'll let me go for it. Why wouldn't he?" Peter asked, looking at Tim. "I mean, didn't you ever want to try for something like this? Did he stop you?"  
  
"Um, it was for the best. I can't really play anyhow." Tim told him, smiling like it didn't matter. "I'm really not that great with sports."  
  
"Wait, he didn't let you play?"  
  
"Well, he had good reason, don't worry Peter, I'm sure you'll be able to. I just. well, it's different for me."  
  
"How so." The question was demanding and Tim didn't like this at all.  
  
"Look at me Tim, do I look like football material?" Tim snapped. He didn't care a thing about football, he knew perfectly well that he could play, and he could beat down everyone of the players with ease. But Bruce had told him, the answer was no, he couldn't do sports if he wanted to be Robin. And Tim had accepted that.now it was the mere matter of getting Peter to stop with the questions.  
  
Peter shook his head. "No, but if you tried."  
  
"I don't want to."  
  
"There is your problem."  
  
"I'm 5"1 Peter. Spare me the 'I could play' crap. You and I both know that this figure is not the sporting type."  
  
Peter snorted. "You stunted your own growth."  
  
"Excuse me?" Tim turned to face the other boy who sat a few feet away. He was thankful that the glass separated Alfred from him for a few moments.  
  
Peter smiled with a knowing expression. "Your not some scrawny geek, you are nothing but muscle Tim, you just did to much, and well. that can stunt your growth."  
  
Tim gapped at the boy. 'This has to be Bruce's freakin' kid.' He thought to himself. "Glad you noticed, life on the streets was tough."  
  
"So I have heard. Gotham must have been hell to grow up in."  
  
"Gotham is Hell."  
  
Peter snickered.  
  
"Football?" Bruce questioned as he held up the paper Peter had handed to him a few minutes ago. He looked to where Dick sat, gulping down some type of food. Or so Bruce thought it was food at the rate Dick was eating it.  
  
Dick used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. "Sounds like something the kid could use Bruce, just sign the paper."  
  
"I know. It's just not what I expected him to bring home on the first day of school here."  
  
"What, you thought he'd bring home some spandex?"  
  
Bruce shot his ward a dirty look.  
  
"Hey, we all aren't that twisted. Looks like your kid is normal."  
  
At that moment Tim entered the kitchen, looking at Dick with a smile. "Who is normal?" He carried under his arm a thick Algebra book.  
  
Dick smiled at the boy. "Not you boy-o."  
  
"Hey I figure this. everyone else is the freak. were normal." He snapped his coke open.  
  
"That could be our motto. If you wear spandex and run around the roofs, you are normal."  
  
Tim shook his head, moving next to Bruce, and peering down at the paper. "You should let him do it Bruce."  
  
"I plan to."  
  
"Good." Tim replied, sliding beside Dick on the neighboring stool. "He said that he wanted to."  
  
Bruce glanced at Tim, then back down at the paper, slowly signing it. "I thought he would. Connie always wrote about his love for sports."  
  
Tim blinked at Dick. "Um, Bruce. I need some help with my Algebra homework." He tapped his book lightly. "I tried the question, and it doesn't work out."  
  
Bruce nodded, about to answer when Peter hurried into the kitchen, looking around.  
  
"Hey dad, a friend from school just called, and wanted me to go with him this weekend to some party, you mind?"  
  
Bruce looked surprised. "Who is this?"  
  
"Richard Turner, don't worry, he's on the team."  
  
"Team?"  
  
Peter nodded, pointing to the paper. "Football team."  
  
Bruce slowly nodded, glancing at the form. "I need to think about it."  
  
"Let him go Bruce." Dick called, getting to his feet and rubbing Peter's head.  
  
Bruce glared harder at Dick. "I'll think about it Peter, until then, no. I don't even know these people."  
  
"But you don't need to! They are from school!" Peter hissed. "Dad, I made some friends, most parents would be happy. Mom never questioned my actions, she trusted me."  
  
"I said I'll think about it Peter, ok? I'm not your mother."  
  
"I never said you were, but I was expecting some type of trust." Peter growled, taking the football form.  
  
"You know what, this is idiotic. You can go, but you are home no later than 10, you got that?"  
  
"Ten?!" Peter whined. "That's crap!"  
  
At that moment Crystal started screaming out for her mom in the other room. Peter turned and hurried out of the room, cursing under his breath at Bruce.  
  
"Crystal." Bruce grumbled.  
  
Tim, who had been witnessing the whole ordeal, licked his lips. "Bruce, could you please help with just this problem I can-."  
  
"Not now Tim." Bruce snapped, "there are to many kids in this house." Her slammed the door behind him as he went.  
  
"Ignore him." Dick told the youth with a tired smile. "I'll look at it for you."  
  
"No." Tim managed, getting to his feet. "I'll figure it out, thanks."  
  
"Get away you *&^%$# kid! You think you can stop me? Try it! You're just a kid!"  
  
Robin didn't bother to think over what he was doing. He didn't care about being safe, at the moment. All he wanted was to do was bring this cheap punk down. He brought his legs into the air, and used his left hand to move over the man, landing behind him like a breeze.  
  
The boy ducked to the ground, and twisted to the front of the man as the punk turned to look behind him. Robin jumped to his feet. He pushed his hand before the man's face. "Now I have you confused."  
  
"Huh?" The man jerked his head back around, and it smacked into the heel of the boy's hand.  
  
Robin sighed, watching him tumble to the ground. He knelt down on the man's chest, brining his hands around the man's neck. "Just a kid?" He pulled out a bat-a-rang and used it like a knife, holding it to the man's neck. "You do this often?"  
  
"You cheap ^&*(."  
  
"I get that a lot, I know." Robin whispered, and moved his gloved fingers behind the man's neck, and watched as the man fell unconscious as the boy hit him.  
  
"A little on edge, are we?"  
  
"What can I say? Life has been better." Robin noted as he got to his feet and looked at the sky. "Batgirl, tell me. why is it that you seem to know me more than the others. I love you." He let out a small laugh.  
  
The girl walked next to him, smiling. "You are such a ladies man, I'll tie him."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"So, Nightwing said that The Bat was being an #**, anything I can do to help out?"  
  
Robin shook his head. "Naw, I can take him." The two seemed to go into a race for their cables, and they swung to their sanctuary on top the roofs of the city. "Barb."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Robin sighed, leaning against the wind. "You think, well, you think that Bruce is." He shook his head. "Peter is smarter, more athletic. and well, Bruce's actual son, do you think that Bruce would."  
  
Batgirl shook her head. "Tim, I seriously doubt you'll be replaced by Peter. If it makes you feel better I can start a petition."  
  
"Gee, thanks."  
  
"I mean it, Bruce might act like an #** at times, but I don't think he is that much of an #**." She told him with a soft smile.  
  
"But Peter is everything I am not! He could do this and make me look like a fool. if Bruce taught him."  
  
"IF Bruce taught him, he won't."  
  
Robin swallowed. "How do you know? It's his son, and I heard Bruce talking to me. he said that there were to many kids. That means I am the first option to be kicked out."  
  
"He won't, rest easy."  
  
Robin nodded. "Don't tell him I thought this. He'll get all Batman on me."  
  
"I know what you mean." She whispered, rubbing his back with care. "Your secret is safe with me." 


	4. Chapter Four

I need to thank a few people.  
  
Onyx, who put in time to go over this chapter and edit it for me! So now you don't have to cry over the mistakes and struggle through the errors! Hee-hee. So thank you Onyx! A really great guy to do this for anyone who reads this (and a really great help to me)! So the credit for that goes to Onyx!  
  
MX, thanks for the review! I love it when you review, what a guy! But I kind of got better! Look, I now have a beta! Isn't that awesome? Hee-hee, if you are wondering why I wasn't E-mailing you. it is due to a small problem I am having with my password. I just got a new E-mail address so I am set. Be prepared for a rather long E-mail on what happened! Hee-hee, I answered one of your questions, and the others I will get to a.s.a.p!  
  
Not Again, sorry! If you really want to you can suggest a few pointers. Heh, sorry, I can't appeal to everyone. I really wish I could, and then I might actually be a little better than I am now! (Just as long as my FanFiction isn't like Bird's of Prey.)  
  
CCGrayson: I know where I saw your name before! I knew that you weren't new here! You reviewed Malakii's poem! Hehehe, I knew that I knew your name. Malakii goes to my high school, and is one of my best friends. Odd huh?  
  
Babs is all for you! I am glad you suggested her. It helps out the whole thing! So thank you, and feel free to suggest anything about my stories. *Grins* (Barb will make a large show in chapter five! Heh, she kind of is gone in this chapter.)  
  
Chapter Four:  
  
"Could you please get me Mr. Grant on the phone?" Bruce questioned as he stuck his head out, looking at the secretary with a small smile. "I need to talk with him about a few things if you don't mind."  
  
The woman looked up, phone already in hand. "I will, but you have a call on line two from your home. Should I, um, should I take a message?"  
  
"No, I'll take it, thank you." He slowly closed the door and walked over to his desk, picking up the phone and looking out the window. "Hello?"  
  
"Master Bruce." It was Alfred. "It seems that Master Timothy's teachers are worried about him, Sir."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
There was a sigh. "The school called a few moments ago regarding Master  
  
Timothy's absent days and how they seem to be accumulating."  
  
"He hasn't been sick yet this year. What are you talking about?" Bruce demanded. "What lead them to call just now?"  
  
"It seems that Master Timothy has chosen not to attend school today."  
  
Bruce shook his head, slumping on his desk a little. "I'll deal with it when I get home. Thank you Alfred. Was Peter there today?"  
  
Alfred seemed to be moving, for there was a clatter. "Naturally Master Peter is doing just fine."  
  
"Good," Bruce managed as he sat up straight. "Tim drove to school today right?"  
  
"He did. He explained that Master Peter needed to, and I quote: 'Get with it.' And so I agreed to let him drive today," Alfred said. "I never considered it was for another motive."  
  
"It's all right. Thanks."  
  
"Get in the car and hurry; we have no time to waste playing around!" Lee hissed as she tossed her backpack to Ron who jumped in the back of the car. "Tim, could you please just throw away the drink? I would think that you would be more worried than we are!"  
  
Tim nodded, handing his coke to Ron, and slipping into the drivers' seat while switching the car on. He gave a cough as Lee slammed her door shut and flipped the radio, allowing music to flow through the air. "Sure thing."  
  
"Man, that was great! We need to do that every week instead of just a few times a year!" The boy in the back of the car let out in a grin. He took Tim's drink and gulped it down, ignoring the glare from his best friend.  
  
"You were supposed to hold it for me, not devour it."  
  
"Keep your eyes on the road Tim," Ron told him with a knowing nod.  
  
Lee shook her head, glancing with worry at her watch and the looking out the window with a sigh. "My mom is going to so know that I skipped."  
  
"Sorry, it's not my fault that the clock in the mall is ten minutes off," Tim told her,jerking on the steering wheel with a grumble.  
  
"At least you don't have to worry about your parents skinning you alive. You and Ron have it easy, I have someone home twenty-four, seven."  
  
"Luckily I am not you. Oh crap!"  
  
Ron and Lee looked at the boy.  
  
"What is it?" The girl beside him asked.  
  
"Peter is it! He'll be waiting for me to pick him up! He'll know and tell Bruce and then I'll be in so much trouble!"  
  
"Calm down," Ron told his friend. He tossed his hands back as he gave a shrug. "Peter won't rat. Why would he want to?"  
  
Tim considered the question and licked his lips. "You never know. He might tell."  
  
"Oh come on. The kid is cool. Obviously our 'superiors' think he is all right."  
  
"I heard that he is on the football team already. And he didn't even sign up, they asked him to join," Lee interrupted. "Is that true?"  
  
Tim snorted. "Yeah, his old coach sent in a good word or two."  
  
There was a spell of silence and Ron was the one to break it.  
  
"That is a record," he spoke wisely.  
  
"Shi*. Of course it's a record!" the driver growled. "You know what else is? The rate at which I am failing Algebra." He jerked on the wheel.  
  
"You could ask me for help."  
  
"It's not about getting help. I had help." He paused. "Barbara said that she would help me, and Dick is always around."  
  
Ron mouthed the word 'oh' and leaned forward. "So Peter is taking Bruce's attention away from you? Is that what this is about?"  
  
Tim smiled slightly. "What attention?" He grinned at Lee's worried face. "Don't think about it twice, I am just being a baby about it, Lee."  
  
"Yeah well, you are our friend. I am allowed to worry," the girl told him as they pulled down her street, giving her reason to unbuckle. She watched with steady eyes as the car rolled into her drive and she got out, waving to her two friends.  
  
Ron jumped into the front seat and released a sigh. "On second thought, I'll just stay with Lee for the afternoon. Her mom needs to get to know me better. See you tomorrow Tim."  
  
Tim watched Ron run over to Lee, and the girl hit him lightly. Tim chuckled as he pulled away, speeding down the road, leaving them in his rearview.  
  
"This explains why we took the car today," Peter said in a bitter tone.  
  
"Hey, calm down," Tim instructed as he watched the boy get into the seat beside him. "I was just." He didn't finish. "It's not like I do it every day."  
  
Peter shrugged, telling the other boy in his own way that he could care less.  
  
"Um, so anyhow...You won't tell or anything will you?"  
  
"Me? I thought you had permission," the boy replied in a sarcastic tone. He glace at Tim's worried expression.  
  
"Please," Tim begged.  
  
"Bruce already knows. A teacher asked about where you were and I told her you had come to school and well, people said she called Bruce."  
  
Tim hit the brakes, causing the car behind to rear-end them. "Crap!" He yelled, letting off the brakes, and without thinking, hitting the gas. Which, in turn, caused them to slam into the car in front of them.  
  
Peter gasped, throwing his head back and turning the keys, yanking them out of the ignition. "Can't you drive?! You almost killed us!"  
  
Tim's hair was in his face and his hand was shaking on the wheel. "I am so dead!"  
  
All the cars around them were blaring their horns in anger.  
  
"This," The shadow said, "This is not a revolt. This is justice."  
  
The sewers were no place to be. Rat infested tunnels and pipes created a labyrinth. Yet if you knew the right people, and held the right connects, the sewers could be very popular. They were not there as a dare, they were not there as a joke, they were there with all seriousness.  
  
"Gotham has been plagued to long by those who consider their families, themselves, their lives, above our own! If that is what is in store for those who come after me, I don't want to be known! It is time and there is but one way to take the first step and keep walking!" the shadow hissed. "We make our first step the greatest and most devastating for those who think us lower!"  
  
There was a short whisper, then silence, as if people were not sure what to think.  
  
"Where do we start?" it breathed. "Where do we begin?"  
  
No one dared utter a word.  
  
To be continued...  
  
What do you think? Give me a yell about if you like where this is headed!! More Bruce, Dick, Peter, Crystal, Barbara, or Tim? Should there be less of Tim? (Grins at Silver (yeah right!)) 


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five:  
  
"So, Tim Drake, correct?"  
  
Tim rolled his eyes and accepted the hand held out towards him. His jaw was hanging open, slightly out of disbelief.  
  
"I'm Carolyn Russell," the woman explained. Her smile was her main feature. When she brought her lips up her eyes would instantly brighten. "Mr. Wayne said that you would probably not accept me dead on. So don't worry, your silence is not all that shocking."  
  
The boy watched her make her way over to his desk, which was filled with clutter.  
  
"Your butler insisted that we work downstairs, though I think that your room is a much better option, don't you?" the woman announced as she planted herself in his chair. Her hand began weaving about, collecting loose papers and delicately placing them on the floor. She turned her bright blue eyes on the boy and smiled once more.  
  
"My room?" Tim managed. He shook his head, as if the woman was crazed. "We can't work in here."  
  
"Why not, I don't see a problem with working in this area." She turned her head about as she took in a full view of the area. "A little messy, but that is what I am here for."  
  
"You are here to clean my room?" Tim stuttered. The question was almost stupid. Though with the way she was headed, it seemed that he woman did have all intentions to clean his room.  
  
She was facing him now, on her feet. Her hair was golden blonde, extremely curly, and outrageously thick. Her form was not something to model, and she didn't. She wasn't large, but she wasn't perfect. It was obvious that she was simply 'happy'.  
  
Bruce had a lot of people around, but Tim had never really seen a woman like this. The woman Bruce hung around with were almost always either extremely plump, or extremely thin. This woman held a weight that seemed to match her neatly. Her make-up was not something that stood out either, another odd factor to the boy.  
  
Tim cocked his head at her, for a moment in wonder. "Bruce asked you to tutor me?"  
  
"He told you," she stated flatly.  
  
"Sure he told me. I just, you aren't from around here, are you?"  
  
Her laugh was loud and uncharted. "I come from Tennessee honey, it's the accent. Isn't it?"  
  
Tim didn't answer. "I don't need a tutor. I have friends who have offered to help me with math, you are not needed."  
  
"Bring it up with your head man. I can't take any part in this debate other than teach you what you need to know kid-o."  
  
Tim glared at her with a fake cold hate. She was weird, and Tim was in wonder about what she would do. "You are from Tennessee?"  
  
"I sure am, and from what I hear, you are Gotham born and bred. So work with me if I sound silly, the country is different, despite what is being taught in school," Carolyn told him with a finger at his chest.  
  
"When did you move here? And why did you come?"  
  
The woman's smile lowered, yet still held its ground. The boy had obviously struck something. "You are all questions, which I support, but you seem to be asking the wrong types of questions. I am here for Math, not current events. I do apologize if you were confused."  
  
The corners of his lips twitched, but he managed to bring them back down. "I know what you are here for. I just was wondering why you came here instead of staying someplace as nice as that."  
  
Carolyn watched him take a seat beside her and she smiled with care. "I just dropped in last month. I came for the change. Tennessee doesn't seem to hold much for me, 'much' being a job."  
  
"You obviously are good."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Tim shrugged as he flicked a broken eraser from his desk, and watching it  
  
land in the trashcan beside him. "How is it that you don't have a chance in  
  
Tennessee, but on your first month here you manage to get the kid of a  
  
billionaire? I think you aren't telling it all."  
  
Her smile suddenly fell. The boy had managed to wipe it away for the first  
  
time in since she entered the room. "Tim, I came because my x-husband beat  
  
my 12 year old son to death."  
  
Tim's eyes widened. He had been expecting a calm answer, something stupid.  
  
He shuttered. "My god! I am so sorry. I didn't think that it would be  
  
anything like that."  
  
She tried to smile. "It's ok, Mr. Wayne obviously took pity on me, and  
  
picked me up to teach you math."  
  
"Actually I really suck and need a tutor."  
  
"That is a sudden change in attitude for you. Not three minutes ago you were screaming how you didn't need help."  
  
Tim gave a half smile. "I am having troubles."  
  
"You're failing," she stated flatly. "And you said you didn't need help."  
  
"I usually have" He shifted his eyes. "I am just frustrated about the whole thing. I think that Bruce hired you in a lousy attempt to punish me."  
  
Her eyes traced his face. "He hired me because you were failing."  
  
"He hired you because I was skipping school and I crashed my new car."  
  
"He hired me because you were failing."  
  
Tim nodded, almost performing a dance for the woman as he shrugged. "Ok."  
  
"So, you need to know one thing before we start," Carolyn told him, drawing her chair closer to his and opening a book before the two. "Your best friend will become the number 180. I want you to always remember that number for this course."  
  
Tim made a fake smile, going along with her method. "Sure. 180, no problem."  
  
"Good. Now Saxon Math is something that can be considered a friend. No laughs, I am serious. He gives you wonderful examples of what you are working with and the man has a sense of humor. If you get lost, he will list what lesson you need to refer back to. So keep that in mind."  
  
To be continued... 


	6. Chapter Six

Malakii: What are you doing reading these. Back off! Hee-hee. Thanks for the review, though coming from you. naw, just playing around. Perhaps you could write something and then we all would be happy. Now everyone can send you E-mails begging you for a new fanfiction, hmmm?  
  
PS. RMC? What are you mad, we are undercover PB. you want to blow this? Tee- hee-hee.  
  
Padawan JanAQ: I am planning the next chapter just for you kid! Heh, thanks for the review, its always nice to hear from other people who I don't see as much. Of course I love all my old friends, but still it's nice to hear new things. I will get to your request. Promise (And if somehow I don't, tell me again. Comforting, eh?)  
  
GothamGirl: Thanks for the awesome reviews you always give. And I mean them all. Yeah, you need to get a fanfiction out. We talked about this, you have to tell me how and when, you are coming out with something. I'll gladly help if you want. Anyhow, just want to see something of yours. I have only been waiting almost a year. But that's ok. Thanks for the review!  
  
erodri52000: New people are so awesome. I hope I hear more from you because you used the word parallel. *Shutters thinking of Pre-Calc*. No, but you sound like you know your Batman, something I can't claim to (Who is the Rat- King?) I need to learn this stuff. But yeah, the sewer thing is a little weird, but it'll make for an ending. hehehe. Evilness abounds in the human spirit.  
  
Breezy: You, my friend, are so right. You and I need to hang out sometime. Saxon math is a miracle from heaven. We are trying to get it into my school (I sound like such a geek saying I am fighting for a math book) but most of the teachers don't enjoy the idea. The only one who did left, so, yeah. But its true that Saxon is awesome. Thanks for the review!  
  
CC: Thanks once more kid. You know I love your reviews. Tutoring does suck, you are telling me. Yeck, but it's better than failing, huh? Keep up with Ace because we are all behind you.  
  
TurtleClarinet: I too use to play the clarinet, but I switched to drums to expand my knowledge in reading music. even though I have no future in it whatsoever. Drums instructors are send from the devil, remember that. I too LOVE Tim, I love him so much it's a crime. Silver and I fight about him so much that if Tim really did exist then he would probably kill us. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you'll show us some Batman too by chance.  
  
Everyone: This is my country love chapter. Over the summer I fell in love with Country. try Keith Urban 'Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me' and you'll agree. Sorry this took so long, I just took the summer off and waited to get into school before I went back to it. I missed everyone to a degree. Though it seemed while I was gone we made it pass 100! YES! It only took a year for my dream to come true.  
  
Thanks for all the reviews, Ta!  
  
-Casity  
  
(New word of the week is 'Gah', use it as much as you can.)  
  
"I've got no money in my pockets, I've got a hole in my jeans. I had a job but I lost it, cause I am riding with my baby, and it's a brand new day. We are on the wings of an angel flying away. And the sun is shining, and this road keeps winding through the prettiest country through Georgia to Tennessee! And I've got the one I love beside me, my troubles behind me. I'm alive and I'm free, who wouldn't want to be me?!"  
  
She was truly blissful for a few moments as she sang through the song playing on her radio. The voice she sang with was harsh and not at all urbane, but she sang nonetheless. Country music had some odd way of making her feel energetic inside, and she screamed out the words when she knew them, and just hummed along when she didn't.  
  
Gotham didn't seem to know what country music was, and she thought them crazy for that fact. Country music was man's greatest invention for a distressing spirit. It could really life you out of the depths.  
  
"Now she's strumming on my six string, across her pretty knees. She's stomping out a rhythm and singing to me, the sweetest song about how the sun is shining, and this road keeps winding through the prettiest country through Georgia to Tennessee! And I've got the one I love beside me, my troubles behind me. I'm alive and I'm free, who wouldn't want to be me?!"  
  
Turing into the stretched and unmistakable drive, Carolyn lowered her gaze. Wayne Manor seemed like such a gloomy place, and she couldn't help but feel remorseful for those who lived there. Tim seemed to be a considerate kid who just had a little to big of a mouth. But Carolyn liked him, he was cheerful, and he was quick if you could offer time. And time was one thing she could give out now days.  
  
Flicking the radio off with a frown she headed towards the front doors of the manor. The woman couldn't help but mutter the chorus of the following song. "You know justice is the one thing you should always find, you gotta' saddle up your boys, you gotta' draw a hard line. When the gun smoke settles we'll sing a victory tune and all meet back down at the local solon. We'll raise up our glasses against evil forces and singin'-"  
  
"-whiskey for my man and beer for my horses."  
  
Carolyn turned around in shock, dropping her math books with a gasp. Behind her stood the man who had hired her. Bruce Wayne.  
  
Bruce dropped to his knees at once and helped gather up her dropped articles. "Sorry if I startled you, I didn't think about it. I apologize."  
  
Carolyn watched him and simply shook her head. "Oh, no, I was just. flustered." She accepted the books, flushing rather noticeably. "I didn't expect to see you here, I know you live here, it's just."  
  
"I know I am usually hidden away or at work. I'm sorry about not meeting you, but I hold a tight schedule." He gave a charming smile and nodded towards her car. "You enjoy country I take it?"  
  
"Certainly. I can't stay away from it. It's nice to see you were educated in the area somewhat."  
  
Laughing gruffly, Bruce shook his head. "I actually heard that song from my eldest. He enjoys listening to music when fixing his car, and he loves to put them on repeat so it's rather easy to take it to memory. Especially a line like that one."  
  
Squeezing the books to her chest, she began blushing again. "It's rather vulgar I suppose."  
  
Bruce shrugged. "Not compared to some of that music you hear today. I enjoy a good country song, especially that Rascal Flats song."  
  
"It's Toby Keith."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Oh, I was saying Toby Keith sang 'Beer For My Horses' with Willie Nelson. Rascal Flats is anther notable group though, you know more than your common person."  
  
Bruce shook his head at this and then nodded towards the door. "I like to be up to date with things like that. How is Tim doing with this tutoring?"  
  
Carolyn looked confused for a few moments then it clicked. "Oh, Timothy is a wonderful kid, I love him. I really do. He's not as quick as some, but if he sticks with it then it comes to him. He's adorable, and a pleasure to teach."  
  
"If only his other teachers could say that, all I hear is that he has been cutting class or drifting to sleep, flunking tests. He's not as easy as some to understand, but I am glad that you enjoy his company; he seems to like you all the same. He can't get over you accent."  
  
"I hear that a lot around here. I was told to try and loose it, but I don't think I plan to, it'll probably make me forget home."  
  
"I think your accent is attractive, keep it."  
  
Carolyn pushed back her hair and gave a short laugh. "Well, Tim is probably waiting, don't want to keep him in suspense."  
  
Bruce grinned at the comment and pushed open the door. "Allow me."  
  
Carolyn couldn't hold back her white teeth from shining.  
  
"Peter?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Peter?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Peter?"  
  
"What?!"  
  
"You have thirty seconds to get rid of that word."  
  
Peter turned and looked at his sister. A small grin was in place. "What word Crystal?"  
  
"That word."  
  
"What word?"  
  
"The second one."  
  
Peter shook his head and shrugged a little foolishly. "What one is that? What one?"  
  
Crystal began to breath heavily. She had learned that game from Barbara earlier and it had been fun to play, but her brother seemed to ruin it. "What."  
  
"You have thirty seconds to get rid of that word."  
  
The girl glared childishly.  
  
"Hey, you know I'm kidding Crystal. Beside, aren't you supposed to be in bed?"  
  
She simply blinked at this.  
  
"You brat. Come on, go back to sleep before I tell on you." Peter turned back around and made his way to the unmade bed with Pre-Calculus books pilled high.  
  
"Daddy doesn't like us does he?"  
  
Peter was taken back by this comment. He turned to face his sister. "Sure he does, what do you mean by that?"  
  
"He doesn't tuck me in like mommy does."  
  
"Dad's don't do that I guess."  
  
"You do."  
  
Peter smiled at his sister. "I'm not a dad, Cris, now go to bed. Seriously."  
  
"Is daddy gunna' get married again? A girl at my school said that she had two mommies and only one daddy. She said that her first mommy left so her daddy found a new one. Do you think daddy'll do that too?"  
  
"I don't think dad is serious enough to actually take a matter like that seriously."  
  
Crystal was obviously confused so Peter lifted her up and carried her into the large hall. Usually at this hour of night it was vacant and everyone happened to be missing and not around. Though as he passed through he watched Tim walking toward him and Crystal.  
  
It was awkward, especially with Crystal giggling in her brother's arms. Tim simply watched the girl in some sort of disgust, or so Peter thought.  
  
"Stop Peter, lemme down!" Crystal gave a strong kick and Peter dropped her to her feet. "Timmy?"  
  
Tim paused and turned around to look at the girl, expression unchanging.  
  
"Does daddy ever tuck you in at night? He forgets about me, so if he does could you remind him that I still love him?"  
  
Peter felt a rush of guilt and he covered his sister's mouth and picked her back up shaking his head. "Listen, she talks fast. Sorry about that, I didn't know what she would say."  
  
Tim was flushed with embarrassment, though he nodded somewhat reluctantly. "S'nothin'. Just forget it." He shrugged and then backed off still facing them with a critical eye.  
  
Crystal was squirming for her freedom though did not achieve it.  
  
"Night Tim, and ya' know, sorry."  
  
"I said forget it. So forget it." He looked at Crystal and then turned on his heel and hurried off, back to the staircase and off to the first story. The steps dulled and Tim could hear the low curse directed his way.  
  
"Ok Crystal, time for bed. I'll see you in the morning, just try not and talk to Tim about Dad. I don't think we are on the same step as he is with him. All right?"  
  
Crystal glared as he shut the door softly behind him. It was obvious she was angered over her mouth being so rudely covered.  
  
Be Back Soon! Pre-Calc is really kicking my butt this year. Ta-ta! 


	7. Chapter Seven

"Tim!"  
  
Tim Drake halt briefly in his steps, then leisurely turned on his heels, looking at Peter with a foul expression. He kept his mouth securely fasten and jolted his head to form some fashion of a nod. It was not a welcoming gesture.  
  
"I was wondering what your problem was."  
  
"Problem? I don't know what you are talking about Pete."  
  
"It's Peter, got that?"  
  
"Good, then it's Tim, not Timmy. Tell you sister that for me, will you?"  
  
Grinding his teeth together Peter administer a tight and frustrated nod. "Sometimes I wonder if you forget how old she it."  
  
"I know how old she is."  
  
"Perhaps you haven't seen other children her age?"  
  
"Where are you going with this?"  
  
Peter curved a hand over his head, rushing it through his rusty colored hair. He released an old sigh that seemed to say he had enough. "You cursed her tonight, and that isn't something to do in front of an older brother... unless you are looking for a fight or are simply and idiot."  
  
Tim frowned. "Who said I directed those words to her?"  
  
"I don't want to deal with your problems, I just want to hear you tell her in the morning that you are sorry. She's my little sister, and I want you to apologize to her."  
  
"I said I didn't cuss at her. I simply haven't an idea about what you are talking about."  
  
"How have you survived this long?"  
  
"It doesn't take much."  
  
"And you are a prime example of that simple fact."  
  
Tim twitched and shook his head. "Listen Peter, it's late. I'm tired, so goodnight."  
  
"So you will apologize then, right?"  
  
"'Bout what?"  
  
"You know what about!"  
  
Tim smiled softly. He continued to rub both hands together than give a small and helpless shrug.  
  
"Don't make me go to dad."  
  
"Bruce would enjoy that as much as he enjoys having you around."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Peter quickly spat. "Don't play games with me Timothy! I know perfectly well that you are saving your own butt. So apologize to her in the morning or I will tell. I don't care how stupid it might seem to you if I tattle tale, but I won't have anyone treating my sister with that kind attitude. You got that?"  
  
"No I don't, so what now Peter? I told you more than once I didn't curse her! I called you a son of a bitch!"  
  
Peter threw himself at Tim, causing both of them to tumble to the ground. Peter managed to pin the raven-haired boy under him. "You take that BACK! It's one thing cursing my sister, and me but you keep you and your dirty mouth away from my mother! She's dead and didn't do anything to you!"  
  
Tim cracked his head against Peter's and threw the boy off him. He got to his feet, dusting himself off, ignoring Peter's low moans of pain. "Never do that again."  
  
Peter looked up. He held his head and blinked away the tears of pain. He saw Tim's head was trickling blood and knew that his was probably doing the same.  
  
"What is going on here?"  
  
The two turned to see Bruce storming down the hall.  
  
Peter's stomach erupted with butterflies. He stammered for an answer, but nothing came. He was in pure shock.  
  
"Timothy!"  
  
"What?!"  
  
Bruce sighed as he helped Peter up. "Move you hand and let me see."  
  
Peter did as he was told and lowered his hand, seeing it stained with a crimson liquid. "Dad, I-I'm sorry. I didn't think that it would go this far."  
  
Tim was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He had a protective guard up that seemed to tell anyone he couldn't be hurt.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"It's a long story," Peter admitted. "I just got mad at Tim because he cursed my mother. So, I didn't think and went into a fight. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so carried away with my emotions."  
  
"What did Tim say to make you so mad?"  
  
Peter shook his head. "He called my mom a bitch."  
  
Tim stood, not denying a single word. Looking like he didn't care about what was happening.  
  
"Timothy, apologize to Peter this instant, and not only to him, but to me. And don't think that this is over."  
  
"You didn't even- never mind, what does it matter?" Tim spat bitterly. "What does it matter? I'm sorry I called the lady a bitch, but I meant no harm to her. I meant it toward Peter and no one else. So Peter, please forgive me for saying that about your mother. I should have known to call you a bastard or something along that line."  
  
Bruce grabbed Tim by his shirt collar and dragged him off. He hollered a to Peter a quick: "Goodnight, I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Peter watched in a small amount of fear but scurried away to his room. 


	8. Chapter Eight

"Should I read between the lines? And look for blessings in disguise, to  
make me handsome, rich, and wise? Is that really what you want? I'm a prodigal with no way home, I put you on just like a ring of gold, and I run  
down, run down the isle, to you. So could you love this bastard child? Though I don't trust you to provide? With one hand in a pot of gold, and  
the other in your side."  
–Derek Webb 'Wedding Dress'  
  
Chapter Eight:  
  
By: The BatThing  
  
"Bruce, hey, ouch, you are hurting me!" Tim was leaping and running to keep up with the man. He looked rather awkward, coming to the height of 5"1 flanking someone who was 6"2. "Hey Bruce, I am serious, you are choking me!"  
  
Bruce relaxed his clutch on the shirt collar, however kept a firm handful. His forehead was lined with irritation. Eyes, they were an ice-cold blue, reflecting his mind-set at the moment.  
  
The boy found himself being dragged into Bruce's study. And butterflies took flight. 'Dan,' he thought tensely. 'He never uses the study.' But Tim was determined not to show his anxious thoughts. He kept a clam expression, along with a loose gaunt.  
  
Once inside the large and spacious room Bruce released Tim completely. Not a word was spoken, as the door was slammed shut. The whole room seemed to rattle with the force applied to the action.  
  
Bruce.  
  
Was.  
  
Mad.  
  
Tim certainly did not make a motion, he stood fixed in one spot, hands crossed loosely across his chest. If there was one trick he used when Bruce was mad at him it was looking the man in the eyes. But there was a small problem with this, he could never stare the man straight in the eyes. So Dick had taught him a trick.  
  
Instead of looking directly in the eyes, Tim found a spot on the man's forehead and glared at it. As far as he knew Bruce hadn't caught on that he wasn't really looking into his eyes.  
  
So there the two stood, glaring at each other in pure resentment.  
  
It was Tim, drolly enough, who spoke the first words. "So, what are you so pised about this time?"  
  
That apparently was a straw to many on the camel's back. Bruce, in reality, lifted the boy off the floor as he snatched him by the collar.  
  
"Eoh!" Tim gasped as he was brought but an inch from Bruce's face. He blinked rapidly, forcing himself to look at the man. He stretched his legs, disappointed, and petrified in reality, that he couldn't touch the ground. "Bruce," he whispered in the toughest voice he could manage.  
  
The grip was released completely and Tim fell to the floor, landing clumsily on his rear-end. He gave a little sharp breath and then looked up.  
  
"Get up," Bruce growled, barring his teeth. "Get up and sit over in the chair Timothy Drake."  
  
Tim remained for a moment, then slowly stood and made his way to the area indicated by his mentor. He took the seat in the oversized, over cushioned chair.  
  
Bruce walked in front of him, looking down through cold eyes. "Why?"  
  
"Because." Tim paused, and knew it would be stupid for his health to leave it at that. "Because he made me really mad, he has been making me really mad."  
  
For a moment Bruce seemed to calm down slightly. It could have been a many things, though Tim was positive it was the fact that he had been so truthful in his answer. "That is no excuse."  
  
"I guess, but I still did it, what can I say?"  
  
The look, which was given in reply, indicated that the wrong answer had been given.  
  
"I mean, I did it, I-I guess I am sorry I did it, bu-but I can't really erase, um, erase it." Tim found himself starting to fumble for words, which wasn't a good sign. He felt a stutter starting up, something he had dropped since his days with dad.  
  
"You guess that you are sorry, what does that mean?"  
  
Tim considered the question, but more so considered how he was starting to stutter. Licking his lips, he began to form an answer. "Well," he paused, and then felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him. "I don't like Peter, and I don't much like Crystal. In fact I would rate it close to a despising emotion."  
  
"What did they do to you?"  
  
The anger was weaving in the boy's chest. How dare Bruce throw these questions out at him like he had any right to ask? How dare this man treat him in this manner! Tim straightened immediately, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth. "Well, they came here."  
  
"They are my children! Of course they are going to come here. What do you think, I'd send them off to live with some distant relative rather than letting them stay with me, their biological father?"  
  
The words 'biological father' were like a slap in the face. But Tim had been slapped many a time. "No."  
  
"Then why are you so angry about their living here?"  
  
"I guess you wouldn't understand," he said rather matter-of-factly.  
  
"Apparently." Bruce shook his head and covered his eyes. "Listen, what you did tonight, cussing like that, to someone who has been through what Peter has been though."  
  
Tim felt a new wave washing over him, one of apprehension.  
  
"Timothy, what more can I say than I have never been more ashamed of you in my life than at that moment. I know you have a foul mouth, I know you are quick when it comes to your temper." Bruce shook his head as he continued, "but what you did tonight is something I really don't understand."  
  
"You wouldn't understand because you weren't there!"  
  
"You keep acting this way Tim, and it's really sad to see it."  
  
"I act like what?!"  
  
"Like a little kid who needs help, serious help. And sometimes I wonder if I was right in thinking I could aid you in recovering."  
  
Tim was on the edge of his seat, his fingernails cut into his skin. "What do you mean recover? I never needed any recovering!"  
  
Bruce studied him momentarily. "Tell me about your family life, and then you'll answer your own question."  
  
Oh, Tim had enough. "F you Bruce Wayne. F YOU! You are so not one to talk when it comes to that sort of thing, you tell me about your family life! Oh wait, you don't have one, they are dead! Your parents are dead, yeah, how bad did it mess you up when you watched them shot right before you own eyes! So don't you dare ask me a stupid question about my family life when your own parents are dead!"  
  
WHAM!  
  
Tim instantly cowered at the sound. His chin trembled uncontrollably as he looked at Bruce's red face. "I-I, I'm sorry Bruce. I-I got carried a-away. God, I am so sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said that, I just got so mad, so mad so easily."  
  
Bruce ignored him and walked out of the room, slamming the door unbearably hard. Two pictures hanging on the wall fell, their glass shattering into a million pieces.  
  
Suddenly Tim was alone. He had gotten what he had wanted. He had won the fight. He had been the last man standing. He had dug the knife into his mentor heart. And he had never felt more awful.  
  
So, being the tough man he always tried to be, Tim cried. He shook with fear as sobs rocked his body. There was no way he could go on like this, no way could he continue as Robin now. He was done for, the closest things he had to family... he had lost them for sure.  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
Thanks for all those wonderful, amazing reviews buds!  
  
Leahblueeyes:  
  
Hehe, sibling wars indeed! Yeah, I hope I surive them too. And well, I  
hope we all manage to crawl to the end (eep!). Hey, I haven't seen  
much new fanfics from you buddy! What is up with that? Tisk, I am  
rather disappointed! Teeheehee, usually I only nag at the few  
(Silver!) but you haven't posted in, like, longer than me! So I hope  
to see something from you ASAP! Understand? Thanks for the review, and  
write soon, ok?  
  
Silver:  
  
Hey my best Tim Drake friend! I would have never guessed to see you in  
these parts! No, I am kidding, you and I... we like, are oldies. You  
know that? We use to be all young, but now... we are oldies! And about  
that partner fanfiction... it is coming! I swear. I just had to finish  
this and work on schoolwork. I'll send it to you soon, ok? I promise!  
Eep, I am such a slacker. ( LYLAS! (An online sis that is, tee!) -Cas  
  
Theresa:  
  
Thank you, but I doubt you are enjoying my story as much as I am  
enjoying your review! I really do appreciate reviews, lets put it this  
way... when it comes to reviews, I am a glutton. So thanks, thanks,  
thanks, and THANKS for reviewing. I really do love it when I get  
reviews, especially from people I don't really know. So here comes a  
question... do you write? If so tell me, and if not then you should!  
Write Tim fanfics! Tee-hee-hee, kidding, you don't have too, but if  
you don't write then please, please, please consider. And if you do...  
tell me your pen name! Thanks a million!  
  
What You'd Expect:  
  
Yea! Another review! A different kind at that, it's always nice to  
hear what everyone has to say. But please don't say that these guys  
aren't much of reviewers, they are wonderful reviewers... even if I suck  
at writing I know a good review when I see one! And you gave a nice  
review, though I don't really understand your 'marysueism comment', ?  
I guess I am stupid. I'm not ten though, nope, I'm 17! But you are  
right, my idea is somewhat childish I suppose. I just always wanted to  
do it, and we all know there is nothing wrong with that, right? But I  
would love it if you could tell me how I could improve. I have this  
great, great guy friend (though we don't talk much anymore) named Ari...  
he use to always give me these 'fire reviews' that actually helped me.  
But when he first reviewed I was actually scared. But then we were  
friends and instead of being irritated at him I was so happy to see  
his remarks. He was a genius (is a genius). So if you would be willing  
you could review and tell me how I could improve. I know you might not  
want to with the fanfiction, but in others! You don't have to, but it  
would be cool. My E-mail is BatCasityhotmail.com if you want to talk  
more! Thanks a ton buddy! And it's nice to hear from a different point  
of view! Oh yeah, do you write?  
  
Haydock14:  
  
Ok, you sound like me in a freaky sort of way! That is that kind of  
review I would have left. Which means the saying great minds think  
alike must be true! I actually decided to hop back and write more in  
the chapter because of you! You inspired me with that comment, so  
thanks, thanks! I looked for your E-mail to write you and ask you to  
check this chapter for me, but it wasn't listed (. But that's ok, you  
can read it just as well here I suppose. But thanks again for the  
review! It was extra cool because you sound just like me. I hope you  
enjoy this chapter, it' mostly written for you actually, not in a  
stalkerish sort of way, don't worry. But I was going to skip the anger  
part... but I didn't because I read your review! So yea! Thanks  
doppelganger (isn't that a cool word? It means the same... we are kind  
of the same, considering... well, I think we are... that's enough!)!  
  
-Casity 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine: For Who You Are By: The BatThing  
  
"Tim?" Dick knocked his fist gently against the thick door. He was worried, and wasn't a bit ashamed to admit it. More than once he had been in the same spot his friend was in now. "I'm coming in, so if you are naked or anything I would suggest dressing, that or running for cover, heh."  
  
The door opened smoothly, almost as if it had been waiting to be opened. The young man took a large step, entering the room with confidence, perhaps a little too much, because as he pushed the door back it slammed into place.  
  
Tim sat on his bed, darker circles around his eyes than usual, and an empty picture frame in hand.  
  
Dick couldn't help but wonder. "Tim, may I ask about the picture frame? Do you need help looking for the picture?"  
  
"Yeah," the boy said, in nothing but a whisper. "But it seems it's lost for good."  
  
"Where have you looked?"  
  
Dark eyes snapped up and caught Dick off guard. "It's not here, I know that much. It's not here in this house."  
  
"Tim?"  
  
The boy got to his feet and tossed the frame aside. It landed on his overly thick comforter, and then bounced to the floor. "Don't worry Dick, I'm fine. I guess I just kind of messed up today."  
  
"I know, Alfred told me. He said he doesn't know the whole story, but Bruce did something to you." Dick tucked a strand of hair back. "You want to tell me about it? I know you probably don't want to, but just keep in mind I was in the same spot you were in a few years back. I know what you are going through a little more than the others. So don't feel weird about telling me, like I wouldn't understand. I do."  
  
Tim gave a sad smile. "I just was a jerk to Bruce, and he got really mad."  
  
"Did he hurt you Tim?"  
  
"Naw, I hurt him."  
  
Dick quirked his eyebrow as he waited for some kind of follow up to the bold statement that had just been made.  
  
"I brought up Bruce's parent's death. I was cruel about it, and I suppose you can say Bruce was hurt real bad at what I said." Tim hung his head. "I can't stay here anymore Dick, and I need to get out before Bruce takes Robin from me."  
  
"Tim. Listen. I know you probably hurt Bruce, but here is the reality. Bruce is a jerk, and more than half the time he needs to hear what we have to say. I know it sucks saying it, and more than once we get so mad at him it comes out hateful, but here is the thing. It is usually out of love we say it. I don't know what went on between you two. But I do know that whatever you said, he won't hold it above your head for that long. Sure, he is a baby. He never really grew up when his parents died I think. In some ways we are older than him."  
  
"But Dick, that doesn't give me reason to stay. He doesn't need me." Tim's eyes suddenly flashed. "Aw, what am I saying? It's no big deal. I am probably over reacting."  
  
Dick inwardly cursed. He almost had Tim telling him the truth. "Erm, you sure about that? I doubt it's just a case of overreaction."  
  
"Yeah, I am sure. I guess I have had a lot of stress lately. Don't worry about me. Ok?"  
  
"Tim?"  
  
The boy gave a bitter smile.  
  
"If you need to get away then tell me, we'll make a vacation of it. Understand?"  
  
Tim nodded. "Thanks."  
  
Not a word was said, and Dick left the room. Tim watched as the door closed softly behind his friend, and then lifted the empty picture frame into his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and then chuckled.  
  
"I was so close to being able to put a picture in this frame." He opened his eyes and shook his head. Setting the picture frame back down, he made his way into the bathroom. He heard Dick's car start up, and then roll down the drive.  
  
Bruce was out on a date with Carolyn, and Alfred was being the perfect butler, attending Bruce's every need. Crystal was asleep, and Peter was downstairs watching television.  
  
Tim picked up his toothbrush and slowly began brushing his teeth. He considered Dick's words, but nothing struck him. He had to leave, it was that simple. It would be cruel to stay any longer than Bruce wanted.  
  
'Are you sure,' a voice inside his head asked. 'You could be overreacting.'  
  
'No,' he assured himself. 'I know what I need to do.'  
  
'Are you sure?'  
  
'YES!'  
  
Silence.  
  
Tim slammed down his toothbrush and lowered his head. He sighed a little louder than needed and stared at the sink. Lifting his head, he eyed the mirror. His eyes grew large at the reflection of the figure standing behind him.  
  
"Hello Timmy."  
  
Tim whirled around only to be sprayed with gas in his face. He collapsed to the floor coughing, spitting out the foam of the toothpaste.  
  
"You are making a horrible mess! HAHAHAHAHA!"  
  
Tim gasped and clutched his throat as his eyes watered.  
  
"Perfect timing, can you say that?! Tee-hee, of course you can't!"  
  
Blinking rapidly Tim tried to make out what was happening a few feet away, but he couldn't keep his eyelids open. "Erm... Bruce?"  
  
The laughter followed him as he fell into a deep sleep.  
  
Sue Falkenkralle: Thanks, I am glad you are enjoying it! Tee! I'm working on 'Oh Silent Prayer of My Thoughts', but it is going rather slow...you know how that goes. Ack! Well buddy, I must ask you for you opinion if you have one on either fanfiction (or any for that matter). I am kind of stuck on 'Silent Prayer' one, so any ideas would be awesome. I have the ending done, isn't that great, and I think I might even have a better plot... but any ideas you might have or suggestions throw them at me! Waves  
  
T.L. Maraudett: Hey buddy! I E-mailed you, I hope you managed to get that letter. Eep! Sorry it took so long once again. I must admit that I wrote this chapter after I wrote chapter eleven, horrible, isn't it?! I just need to write chapter ten and I should be moving along nicely, you know? Thanks for the review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too. Feel free to leave any ideas, I'd love to hear them!  
  
Jypsee: Hey! Thanks for the review! I'm trying to, but sadly the ending draws near, sigh. Thanks a million for writing me and telling me you enjoyed it! I enjoy your reviewing! Thanks, thanks, thanks!  
  
P: Hey!! Hugs You are so right! I appreciate you telling me that about Bruce, and you are so right! Can I ask you something though, would you say Bruce cares more about Tim than himself. I mean, I know he cares more about Tim and Dick... but for some reason I see Bruce as kind of self centered. (This has really nothing to do with what you said... but I think you know Batman better than me, so I have to ask). Cause I know that I probably built up this character that doesn't fit him at all. SO, I was wondering if you could just give me your opinion. I don't know why, Bruce, in my mind, is really self centered... or is that just work being more important than family? You don't have to answer, but I thought I'd ask. Thanks for the wonderful review! Thanks you!!!!  
  
Theresa: I tried to get up this chapter ASAP, but I lost my internet connection on my computer and can't do much unless I borrow someone else's. Eep! But nevertheless I read your fanfiction! Tee! I loved it, and I also love YJ! Thanks for reading my stuff, and thanks for writing me a review! Are you working on any new fanfictions by chance? Eh? Nudges. I am a slacker, speaking of which... I need to send an E-mail to Silver! Sorry, random... thanks, thanks, thanks! I hope you like this chapter, tell me what you think. It kind of took a swing, ya' know?  
  
Haydock: Hey, long time no chat! Thanks for the review, it was nice hearing from you again! Tee-hee, thanks for the encouragement!! I am attempting to make this actually stay good, but it's hard, you know? I have been at this thing for so long... it's like... slow. I am a slow writer, I need to work on that... hides from Sue. But thanks for the review, I hope you enjoy this chapter too, though something seems missing, I am not all that sure! Thanks buddy!  
  
Silver: Ack, Silver, I have the chapter done... it's stuck on my computer at the moment and I can't E-mail considering I don't have the internet. But it is done! -Casity 


	10. Chapter Ten

For Who You Are:

Chapter Ten:

"Hush little baby don't you cry, daddy's goanna' sing you a lullaby..."

Tim's eyes fluttered open at the sound of the voice that was singing overhead. Silently the words connected, but he couldn't make out the owner of the voice. 'Bruce,' he thought as he tried to make out the tall figure leaning over him, but everything seemed to be a blur.

"Everything's goanna' be all right, I'm watching over your sleep tonight," it continued.

"Bruce?" He crocked, wondering what was happening to him, why he couldn't feel the rest of his body, why everything was so blurry, why he was being sung to.

There was a giggle, "that daddy doesn't care if you cry or not, of course, neither do I to be honest." From the blur a yellow smile spread wide. "Tim Drake."

Tim tossed his head, but couldn't move anything. "Joker," the boy hissed, not backing down.

"Tee-hee-hee, right you are Timbo, you don't mind my calling you that for a short while do you?" Thin piano player fingers fell over the boy's mouth and grabbed both lips, pulling them hard, "I didn't think so."

Tim whimpered as he was released, tasting the blood in his mouth from where The Joker's fingernail had cut him. His vision was becoming slightly clearer, though not by much. He still couldn't make out images a few feet away.

Suddenly the sound of a drill erupted and Tim jerked his head toward the sound, but couldn't see but a mix of purple, green, and white.

"How do you think Wayne likes his babies? You see, I thought of a way that will bring me back to my beloved's sight, and that is getting to children. I managed, you see, to get a few others, but they weren't important enough for anyone to say anything."

Tim blinked rapidly, wishing he were home.

"But the son of a billionaire, I'll be sure to get front page for _your_ makeover! Then the darling Batman and I will attend to each other yet again!" The man leaned over Tim, "but I am no fame hog. You'll get all the attention for a day or two!"

Tim winced and The Joker exploded into laughter.

"I am afraid I don't have any pain killer, but don't worry about making to much noise screaming, one thing I don't mind is hearing how my patients feel about this. It lets me, hahahaha, it lets me heehee, excuse me for a moment." The Joker dissolved into a fit of laughter. "I just remembered when I got the last one, teeheehee!"

The sound of the drill was closer now, and Tim struggled against the bonds holding him down.

"Well, let's start to make you more famous! Who knows where you go with this new look!" And with that Tim felt the drill touch the end of his cheek. "Don't look so scared, daddy won't let anything bad happen."

Tim could tell he was tense, and he couldn't make any cruel comment, all he could this about was: where is Bruce? Why isn't he here to save me?

One hour before:

"Daddy!" Crystal screamed as Bruce scooped her in his arms. He hugged her tight as she erupted into tears.

Bruce rocked her slightly, and paused, seeing Peter walking towards him, a blanket draped around his shoulders. "Peter."

The boy shook his head as tears flowed down his cheeks. "Dad, Tim is gone. Dad, he took him, he-he," the boy began to cry harder now, "left a body of some kid... dad."

Bruce could hear sirens in the distance coming to help. "Where?"

"On, on Tim's bed."

Bruce gave Crystal to her brother and headed toward the stairs. "You two stay down here, understand? I don't want you to come up here."

Peter nodded as he clutched his sister.

Bruce made his way to Tim's room, finding the light off. He slowly flicked the light on and when he saw what awaited him he couldn't help but gag. Only The Joker could do this to a child, and now he had Tim.

He saw a note pinned on the boy's chest and read it.

'Brucie!

Call the police and tell them to send Batman! I won't wait up for him, but I would like to him sent my way. Here is the address... if anyone beside him comes... well I guess then I'll just have to totally run for it, cause there won't be any child left! HAHAHA!

-J"

"If you touch him," Bruce growled as he ran down the stairs, "Joker I swear I will kill you with my two bare hands."

Peter ran to his father as he came downstairs. "Dad? Are you going to leave us alone? You aren't are you?"

"I need to leave you two here, all right? Pretend that I never came home do you understand? As far as you know I was never here. You called me but didn't get a hold. Understand?"

"Don't leave us alone dad," Peter whispered as he sank down.

Bruce left them both without a word.

"I'm so scared," Peter whispered as he hid his head with Crystal. "Dad?"

"I loose myself to find in me, the way it ought to be. It's hard to say I love you. It's hard to say I need you. If all is well, it's hard to tell. It hurts to think of someone else. It's hard to say I'll be there. It's hard to say I really, really care.

Until the world won't turn, till the planets burn, till the sun dies I'll be there. Until the heavens come, till this life is done. Till the world dies I'll be there."

I can't see outside myself, how can I live for someone else. It's hard to say I'm sorry. It's hard to say forgive me. I can't believe you're here with me, into the future I can't see. It's hard to say forever, it's hard to say I'll never, never go." Dick Grayson sang aloud, thinking of Barbara more than anything else. For some reason the words reminded him of Barbara and his relationship. He made a face, "Ack, going all romantic on myself again!"

He felt his cell phone vibrate in his back pocket and jerked the wheel in surprise. Then slipped it out of his pocket. He clicked it open and then checked to see who was calling. It was Bruce.

"Hello?"

"Dick, this is Bruce."

"Yeah, I saw when I picked up the phone, hey I need to talk to you about what you did with Tim. I know you think you have every right in the world, but Tim is just a kid you know."

"Dick, shut up and listen to me. The Joker has Tim."

Dick didn't say anything. He just turned on his left turn signal and pulled into the nearby gas station.

"Dick, I need you to call Barbara. Tell her to suit up and you both use the tracker on the Batmobile to find me."

Dick felt his voice waver. "Wouldn't it be better for us to split up and look?"

"No, The Joker left a note. He wants Batman."

"Why?"

"Richard, do as I say." And then the he hung up.

Dick turned the car around and headed towards the manor. He dialed Barbara's number and prayed she had her phone around her.

"Harl?"

"Yeah, Mista J?"

"Are you ready for our company?"

Harley skipped into the arms of The Joker, her large blue eyes dancing. "I made 'dem a cake Mista' J! A pretty cake wit' a large bat on it! Tee-hee, do ya' need any help Mista' J?"

Patting his partner on the head the man shoved her aside. He laughed as she fell into a pile of garbage. "Help Harl? Ha! You just do as you were told and I shouldn't need any help! I'm going to start some screaming! HA!"

"Right Mista' J!" Harley watched as he walked into the room where the screams came from. She brushed her blonde bangs back, a smile plastered across her face as she licked a small cut on her arm. "Help-schmelp!"

The girl turned around and twirled into the makeshift room she had created. A small table sat in the center of the room, blood stained the tablecloth, but she didn't mind. The girl scooped up a handful of flowers from the vase acting as the centerpiece. "Once Batman's out of 'da picture it'll jus' be Mista' J an' me!" She squeezed a flower petal and then watched it fall to the ground.

"Harley."

The girl shrieked at the voice. She fell onto the table and watched as the vase crashed to the floor. Then the shadow was upon her, forcing his hands around her neck. She whimpered, trying to tell him it hurt her.

"Where is he?"

The girl managed to make the sign that she zipped her lips. He released her throat and glared.

"Talk."

"I ain't sayin' nothin' 'bout my puddin'!" Then with that she kicked Batman in the side and slid away. She managed to grab a shard of the broken vase and when the shadow came at her she shoved it in his side.

Batman retracted at the action and thought inwardly of his stupidity. He was being stupid in his anger at Harley and The Joker.

"I will say dis' though! He wants ta' see ya! I think he misses ya or sompin like dat. So I'll go get 'em and tell 'em you are here!" She began to skip away, but her foot was caught and she was dragged backwards.

"You won't be getting anyone Harley," and then the sound of a sharp cry was emitted, and it rang through mixed with laughter. Batman threw his head up and raced to where the sound was coming from. He saw the door with a large sign hanging on it reading: 'The doctor is at work'.

The Batman threw himself forward, but something landed on his back. A howl came from above and the two hyenas were attacking. Batman yelled as loud as he could muster. If the Joker were really after him he would stop hurting Tim.

But it didn't seem to do any good. Batman grabbed the head of an attacking dog and jerked its, breaking its neck with a twist. The other watched and growled furiously. It circled the masked man and then lunged.

Batman caught it in mid air and smashed it between him and the cement floor. He then took his bat-a-rang and dug it in the creature's eye.

"My babies!"

Batman ran to the door and slammed into it, knocking it down.

"Ah! Batman, you are here! Hahaha!" The Joker stood, a hand holding a screwdriver as if it were a gun. It pointed towards the ceiling. Dried blood was mixed with the fresh crimson liquid, making the whole situation look a lot worse. There was a steady stream of blood tinkling down the man's arm, and it wasn't his own.

The dark figure slowly turned his gaze, searching for Tim. Trying to find the boy, trying to make sure he was all right. He found the still and twisted form bound to a table, his whole face covered in blood. 'He's not dead,' Batman thought as he saw a staggering chest raise and fall. 'He just passed out, please god, say he's not awake for this, say he passed out from fear before it even started.'

"You will have to excuse me, I am not at all ready for your company. Harley was supposed to tell me when you came, shame on her. But who can find good help now-a-days, eh?" The Joker exploded into laughter and the boy on the table gave an involuntary twitch. "Don't mind the pile of bones on the table, he just got a little help with his face."

Harley had come in right behind the Batman, and was now cowering. "He forced his way in Mista' J!" Her lip quivered. "I tried to stop him, you don't mean what you said, and I am helpful."

"Shut-up Harl, you are interrupting. Go keep watch for any unwanted guests." The Joker winked at Batman. "I'm not stupid Bats, you have called in help, if not Gordon's dogs, then your pups."

Batman gave him a steady glare through out his small conversation, as if deciding which was would be best to end this things life. And the Joker had some suspicion that the boy on the table, covered in blood, was worth a little more than a child. Something in the back of his head giggled at the thought of Batman tearing him apart.

"What ever is the matter Bats? Cat got your tongue? It seems you are frozen, having a few troubles deciding what should be done? Well tick, tick, tick my dear. Tick-tock indeed, the clock is racing and you don't have much time left. Lil' Timmy dear is loosing blood, and you seem to be loosing your guts."

Batman winced at the sound of Joker calling Tim by name. He didn't have the right to do that. He didn't have the right to speak any of their names. But the trouble was Batman was loosing his guts, a few seconds ago he was keen on ripping the Joker's head off, but something struck him. He couldn't do that. He had to act in a reasonable manner. 'F reason," the man thought as he raised his head slightly.

Then something snapped. His sanity snapped.

Crack.

Snap.

Shatter.

Laughter was spilling through the air, the Joker holding onto Batman's shoulder, giggling into his face, saying meaningless words over and over again.

"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me..."

His head slammed into the floor.

"A partridge in a pear tree."

Blood splattered into Batman's face.

"On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me, two calling birds, and a partridge in a pear tree!"

Spit flew from the Joker's mouth, landing on Batman's lip. He paused for a moment and pulled away from the white figure that reminded him of a corpse.

"Aw come on Batman, is that the best you can do?" The Joker coughed up blood and giggled all the more. "Is that the best you can really do? We haven't seen each other in such a long time; most couples would hurt each other a lot more than that before fleeing again. You know how those abusive relationships go."

Something caught the Dark Knight's attention and he turned. Nightwing slowly entered the room, looking around in wonder. He apparently hadn't seen Tim yet.

"If it isn't the puppy! You know puppy, in dog years you would only be two years old? You know that don't you? I think I can make an exception for you and give you some constructive surgery."

The blow Batman laid knocked the thing on the ground right out. His fist was tight, and quivered slightly.

"Batman?" Nightwing looked slightly worried, and slightly angered. "Where is Tim?"

The Dark Knight Looked in the direction where Tim was bound to the table. He didn't blink as Nightwing rushed to the boy's side and groaned in pain.

"Batman, that bastard drilled a hole in his mouth, he's loosing blood fast. We need to get him home." Nightwing didn't wait for a respond, he gathered Tim in his arms and rushed to Batman. "Take him you idiot, take him home!"

"You will take him home Nightwing, and I will remain her and take care of The Joker." The man turned his back on the two and walked to where The Joker lay. He could hear Nightwing curse him out and then run out of the room.

To Be Continued...

A Minor Pentatonic: Heh! Thanks for your review first off, and second off; I don't want to be the cause of your death so I suppose I shall continue! Your review got me writing the ending of this chapter. I bet you could have guessed who it was, of course I'm not sure I could have! I just knew because I picked the person, hehehe! Well, thanks for your review!

Haydock14: Hell again! Hugs Yes, I am sure that would be a great extension to the fiction: Tim awoke, slightly pleased to taste that minty fresh taste! Teeheehee. Thanks for the review buddy! Yeah, you are so right about Dick and Bruce. I love their relationship as much as I can. It's cool. Thanks and thanks!

P: Thanks for all your help! I really am trying to get my characters to talk a little easier, like you suggested. It is hard, isn't it? Thanks for pointing it out though, hehe, it's great to see it every once in awhile. It really helps, so keep it up! Tee! Thanks for all the pointers, I am trying to keep them all in mind. I pasted them on a paper to refer to! (I know, I am sad). Oh well! Thanks again!

Trunksblue: You guessed right! Yea! Hats off for you buddy! It was the Joker. I never considered Batman going crazy, but it has happened before. Like that time with the scarecrow and Robin had to tie him up! Ah, I love that episode! I updated as soon as I could, the inrnet is slow over here sadly enough and it took me all day to wait for it to load and then bam... it's working wonderfully now (of course!) Thanks for the review!

T.L: Shakes hand You are awesome, you know that? I just re-read your review and it made me super happy! I know this is far from a perfect chapter, but reading your review made me think it might be good! Thanks for such kind words, you are awesome! Hugs

Jypsee: Hey! Thanks for reviewing again! I am glad you enjoyed it, and I hope this one's a little better. Chapter nine was kind of short. I don't know if short is good or what, but I do know that this one is a lot longer. I hope people don't get bored from it. We will know if they read this or not, hehehe! Thanks for this review! Love ya!

-Cas


	11. Chapter Eleven

"I don't want to talk, I'm sick of all this talking. I can't figure you out, cause it's a broken heart you're giving me." –Relient K 'I Hate Christmas Parties'

For Who You Are:

Chapter Eleven:

"It looks like he went through a goddamn thrasher Commissioner." The officer straightened slightly and took a step away from the Joker. "Of course, nothing fatal by the looks of it."

"Then, pray tell, how does it look like he went through a thrasher? I doubt I know anyone who would like going through a thrasher." Gordon pushed his glassed up and sighed. "That Wayne boy was lucky. He was very lucky to be found before the Joker made it fatal."

The man beside Gordon was silent as he studied his boss's expression. Something told the rookie that Gordon was pleased to see the Joker looking this way. But being a rookie, a sort of pity was outreached to the limp form lying on the floor. He had been beaten more than necessary, that much was for sure.

"Listen, Tony, I am going to talk with Montoya. See where that ambulance is. You watch him for me. I'll be only a second."

"Right," Tony chirped.

Gordon shook his head and walked into the fresh, cool air. He lifted his head and then shivered. "Montoya?"

The young woman turned her head, causing her thick brown hair to flip in it's pony tail. She was pretty, no getting around that. Her smile was smooth and faultless as she ran to Gordon. "What is it Commissioner?"

"The ambulance?"

"Its on it's way. You know how they are when it comes to criminals like the Joker. Things get a little nervous." She chuckled, confirming that fact. "We were waiting for Harley to come to. She was just knocked out, that's all, nothing all that bad. We are hoping to get a few facts from her when she does."

Gordon nodded at her words and then turned sharply at a scream from inside. He took off at a full spring, removing his gun and bursting into the room where he had left the Joker and the rookie. 'No surprises,' Gordon told himself as he entered in.

He found Tony on the ground, his neck covered in blood and a bite chunk missing. The Joker lay on the floor, his mouth smeared with the same. Both seemed unconscious, neither moved.

A gasp came from behind as Montoya followed. "Tony!" She went to the rookie's side and looked at Gordon. "He was bitten, the Joker bit him!"

"Tee-hee-hee, right-o, l-l-lasy. Oh, I w-wouldn't mind a bite of you either." The Joker raised his head, a large smile plastered across his face. "I su-suppose that the Bat is gone? No sup-surprise, eh Jimmy?"

Gordon glared at the man, slowly moving towards him. "You are insane, and I am seeing to it personally that you go where you belong."

The Joker chuckled at the comment, and laid his head back down. "Tell them to hurry it up out there, I'm getting a sniffle from this cold." He wheezed as he spoke.

Montoya looked scared as she stared at the white-fleshed man on the floor. Her eyes were large and she couldn't help but shiver. Her head instantly turned as she saw the Joker's eyes move towards her.

"No need to look away my dear, tee-hee-hee, I could stare into your eyes all day. How about I take them from your head and do just that?"

"That's enough Joker, don't make me put you out again." Gordon wasn't happy.

"Well just plant a watermelon on top of my grave and let the juice, run through."

There was a long pause in which Gordon and the Joker simply stared at each other, both thinking, and neither thinking logically.

Two Weeks Later:

"Welcome home Timmy," Barbara Gordon tossed her thick ponytail over her shoulder and gave a shy and innocent smile. Her eyes flashed as they fell on Alfred who came in behind Tim, closing the door carefully behind him. "Um, Bruce couldn't get out of work till later, so he isn't here."

Alfred studied the girl for a moment and then placed a hand on Tim's shoulder. "Master Timothy, do you need anything before I begin to prepare our noon time meal?"

Tim shook his head.

"Very well, if you do, I am sure you know what to do." He paused for a moment, and then began to walk away, leaving Barbara and Tim alone.

"You are probably wondering where everyone is, huh?" The girl tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and lifted her shoulders. "Well, Dick took them out. Bruce hasn't been around a lot lately, and the kids needed to get out a little. They don't know Gothem like we do, so Dick took them around. You know, to get some fresh air or something like that."

Tim simply kept his head turned away from her, not making eye contact. He didn't even attempt to reply to her words. The whole right side of his mouth was covered with tape and bandages. It had been two weeks since she had seen him awake and active. When she did visit he was asleep, drugged, or simply hiding under the covers. She didn't blame him for that though.

Alfred explained what happened. Tim had to have surgery. The whole area that had been drilled was not a nasty mess of thread and skin.

"Listen, how about we go upstairs and get your settled in your room again. Ok?" Barbara reached for his hand but he withdrew it and simply glared. "Tim?"

As if it were too painful to talk, which it probably was, Tim shook his head. His eyes were cold, different then what Barbara had seen just a few weeks prior. Tim began to walk up the stairwell alone, leaving Barbara in a state of surprise.

'This isn't our Timmy that came home, my god, Alfred picked up the wrong kid!' She clung to her stomach as if she felt ill. Somewhere in the back of her mind she blamed Bruce. It had to be his fault; he had caused Tim so much pain the past few days. Tim had always wanted to gain some approval from Bruce. And Bruce never gave it. If he did it was never very apparent.

Barbara held her head and then turned away walking towards the door. She needed to leave.

'Leave?! How could I leave, Tim needs me, sure, he may be banged up a little, but he can't help that. He can't help that at all! He needs his friends, he needs me by his side.' She spun on her heels and started to prance towards the stairs when the phone gave a shrill ring. The girl picked it up on impulse, nothing more. "Hello, Wayne Residence, how may I help you?"

There was a pause, "Barbara, what are you doing at my house?" It was Bruce.

"I'm doing your job Bruce! I am helping Tim back home." She was being sassy and she didn't care at all. "Just where are you? I gave some lame excuse about you not being able to get time off. Like they fell for that. Get your butt over here!"

"Watch yourself Barbara," Bruce growled. "I am doing work, and I can't get away at the moment."

"Oh as if. You own the business, what do you mean you can't get away? You want to know what I think? I think you are scared to see Tim. That is what I think." She huffed at him, flipping her hair angrily. "You are such and idiot Bruce, and at this moment I hate you for that."

Bruce was silent for a moment, and then he answered in a warning, yet calm voice. "Barbara Gordon, you just watch yourself young lady. Do you understand that? I will be home later tonight. I just called to make sure Tim got home all right. Carolyn should be home in a few minutes, she said she wanted to see him."

"Fine."

Bruce hung up with that.

"Urg!" The girl threw her hands in the air and stomped up the stairs. "Young lady? Who does he think he is? My father?!" The girl entered Tim's room and gasped, finding him in his boxers, pulling an undershirt on.

The girl slammed the door shut and shook her head. "Timmy? Sorry about that, I suppose I should have knocked, eh? Well, that was Bruce who just called and asked me to tell you that Carolyn, your tutor, well she is coming to visit you. I don't know if you knew but she found an apartment and moved out. So she isn't around much anymore. But you would probably want to get ready to see her. Ok? Ok."

Turning around she left him alone, once more.

* * *

"Don't go dad, please don't go!" A sob shook Tim's body as he clutched his father's arm.

"Get the hell offa' me boy! You think I have a choice?" The man shook the eleven year old off and gave him a steady glare.

Tim quivered, and reached for his father once more, "why can't I come with then? I'll stay out of your way dad, I promise! Y-you won't even know that I am there."

Wham!

Tim fell to the ground, slamming his head into brick wall. Pain shot through his body and he shrugged it off. "Dad? I-I don't want to be alone..." He reached for his father's ankle and his father sidestepped him. The boy gave a small gasp as he was jerked up by the collar of his hoddie. He could smell alcohol on his father's breath.

"Alone is the least of your worries, trust me when I say that you are headed towards a very lonely life, just like your old man."

Tim gasped as he awoke, sweat trickled down the side of his head and he sat for a moment, and then released a short cry that stopped quickly.

Alone is the least of your worries. Trust me when I say you are headed towards a very lonely life...

He had been right. Tim sat in his bed, his head throbbing in pain and took in a deep breath, pulling the covers over his head, an act he had grown accustom to. There was no way he could be Robin ever again, no way in the world. How could he hide the scars? How could Bruce trust him?

"Master Timothy?"

Tim ignored the kind voice of Alfred. There was the shuffling of feet and the Tim could feel someone sit on the edge of his bed.

"Master Timothy," Alfred pulled down the covers and Tim locked his eyes shut, covering his patched face with his arm. "Why won't you look at me Master Timothy?"

Tim shook his head, not speaking.

"I was headed to bed when I heard you tossing and turning. Were you having a nightmare Master Tim? Do you want any medication to help you sleep?" Alfred positioned his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Get lost Alfred," Tim hissed and shrugged the hand off.

Silence. "V-very well young master, have a pleasant sleep with pleasant dreams. I shall see you in the morning."

Alfred closed the door behind him as he left and then walked down the flight of stairs. He made his way to the Bat Cave and entered the damp vicinity. He found Bruce sitting at the computer, looking intently at the screen. "Master Bruce."

The man turned an ice glare on his butler. "What?"

"You have a very damaged young man up there."

Bruce turned away. "What am I supped to do? He won't talk to anyone, much less look at them."

"I insist you speak to him Master Bruce."

"I tried Alfred, he won't talk, and he won't acknowledge me! The kid is screwed up and I don't know what to do!"

"Perhaps show a little concern, Master Bruce."

"You are out of line Alfred. I **_have_** shown concern."

Alfred blinked at the man, "I have been meaning to speak to you concerning Master Peter and Miss. Crystal."

"What about them?"

"This is no place for them Master Bruce, and with all due respect, they are unhappy. Ever since they day they have arrived. Tonight Master Peter spoke of his godparents who live in his old neighborhood."

"Yes, I know of them."

"He is unhappy Master Bruce, and if I may be so bold, I believe that it would be best for him to go home now." Alfred kept his head lifted high. "His friends are there, his memories are there, and he spoke of his pet dog that he had to leave behind."

Bruce growled at this. "I am doing what I can for everyone in this house Alfred, I know what I should and shouldn't do! They didn't take that dog for a reason, they said that it would be happier living at home, so they gave it to their godparents."

The butler raised an eyebrow. "I know this Master Bruce, but that brings up their feelings. They need to return home. And as for pets that brings up a whole new topic. Tomorrow I plan to go out and find something for Master Timothy. Dr. Leslie spoke of healing properties and I quite agree."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't care Alfred, do what you want."

"Shame on you Master Bruce." And with that Alfred turned and left the man alone.

Bruce turned back to the computer, and reread the article concerning the Joker. The mad man was simply placed in Arkham once more, against the protest of Commissioner Gordon who requested something more punishing.

Bruce scowled at the article and then turned around in his chair and then slowly got to his feet. He scratched his chin and then headed to the manor, following his ever-faithful butler.

To be continued...

Sorry Guys, I couldn't make it all end in this chapter, so you'll have to wait for the next one, which I hope will be the end! This is tough stuff, if I do say so myself. SIgh

Kim: Hey, sorry it took so long to get this up. I was having random troubles, and even though I tried I still didn't get the ending up. But I hope it's enough to keep people happy, hehe! Well, thanks for the review nevertheless, it got me a moving!

A Minor Pentatonic: Yeah, just a little gory on that last chapter, sorry! But I am glad it didn't kill you. Hehehe, thanks for the review, and yes, you have found some use. Hehehe, thanks, thanks, thanks!

Haydock14: Hey! You are right, I don't think Tim can taste that toothpaste anymore, but at least he did brush his teeth, right? Even if it ended with him in all sort of pain. I just hope people don't read this and never brush again! Just kidding of course. Thanks for the review, and yeah, it's a really gory chapter. But oh well ï 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**For Who You Are:**

_By: The BatThing_

_Edited by: P_

"Is this the place?" Bruce looked at the small brick house with some worry for his two children. He knew perfectly well people had different lives then he did, and he knew that people could get by easily with the bare necessities. But when it came to letting someone who had such a small house take care of his children, well, that was a slightly different story.

"Don't worry dad," Peter assured. "I want to do this. It'll be best for us here."

Bruce looked slightly displaced, but didn't answer.

"It's not because I don't like you or anything, it's just because these people are old friends of the family, I'll be able to go back to my old school, with all my old friends, and I'll get my dog back." Peter smiled. It was the first time Bruce had seen the boy actually show a sincere expression.

"I understand." He turned the car off and tried to smile back, but it wouldn't come. There was too much happening, too much to not smile about. And it was sitting in the backseat with Crystal.

"That's them," Peter told Bruce quickly as an elderly couple came out of the house, closing the door behind them. He threw open the door and ran up to the couple.

"Peter!" The woman laughed as she took him in her arms, "How are you baby? I loved all the letters you sent!"

Letters? Bruce was struggling with this concept. He hadn't known Peter sent letters out, why didn't he know that?

"And where is our favorite little girl?" The woman walked towards Bruce, an arm around Peter. She looked pleased to have him with her. "You must be Mr. Wayne."

Bruce nodded politely. "I am. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Patek. I've heard a lot about you from Peter. You were very close to…his mother, weren't you?"

"We were," the woman answered, a look of disapproval crossing her face. "We loved Connie like she was our own daughter."

"Peter was happy to come back, to say the least." Bruce scratched the back of his head. "Well, I'll help get their stuff moved into the house. Tim, could you get Crystal out?"

Tim, forced to come along on the trip, shot his guardian a dirty look but did as he was asked. He undid Crystal from the car seat and then lifted her into his arms, stepping out of the car.

Grant Patek came towards the bandaged boy, slightly wary. "Did she sleep the whole trip down here?"

Tim shook his head and handed her to the man, and then once she was out of his arms he turned back to the car and closed the door.

There was silence for a moment, and Bruce ignored it. He pulled out the large suitcases and handed a few to Peter. "Got that? Good, where would you like this Mrs. Patek?"

"Oh, here let me help you out there," the woman offered.

Unloading the entire luggage took only a few minutes, and soon it was time to say good-bye. Bruce found himself shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. Patek and then dropping to hug a tired Crystal. He kissed the top of her head and nodded. "I'm going to miss you Crys, but I promise, we'll visit you, or you can visit us."

The little girl didn't appear to understand what was happening, she just smiled and went to Mrs. Patek to be held.

Bruce went to Peter and gave him an awkward hug—the man didn't usually show this sort of emotion. "I suppose we'll see each other often."

Peter nodded, and then hugged the man back. "Thanks for letting us come back here dad," the boy gave a small laugh.

"As long as you're happy. Are you guys all set then?"

Peter nodded. After hesitating for a moment, he added, "Tell Tim…bye for me, will you?"

Bruce nodded, and gave a wave. "See you soon, and thank you for taking them in Mrs. and Mr. Patek!" He walked back to the car and got in, waving once more he drove, leaving them all behind him.

"Peter says goodbye."

Ignoring him, Tim shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He had his headphones on, and Bruce could hear the steady beat of the bass. The expression on Tim's face was tired, worried, and angry.

Bruce held an internal debate about the pros and cons of starting up a conversation with the boy sitting next to him. For some reason, Bruce was uncertain about how to treat his young ward. He was the one to blame for the accident. He hadn't been fast enough. He had failed Tim. And it hurt, knowing that. But he didn't know how to tell Tim that—consider communication wasn't strongest suit.

Alfred had suggested that Tim accompany the Wayne's, and Bruce had grudgingly accepted the challenge. But now what?

Tim suddenly slipped off his headphones and turned to Bruce. His words were hard to understand, taking into consideration his as-yet-unhealed injuries, but Bruce made it out. "Could we stop at a gas station or something? I have to go to the bathroom."

"We just left the house! Why didn't you go when we--" Bruce stopped in the middle of the sentence, and swallowed an impatient sigh. "Sure, that's fine."

Tim studied the man for a moment, and then went back to his previous position, staring at his reflection in the mirrored windows. He hated himself. He hated the bandage that attracted anyone's attention, he hated his new speech impediment (courtesy of the Joker's drill), and he hated his failure. He had failed Bruce, and Bruce was disgusted with him. He knew that much.

They came to a stop at a nearby gas station. Without a word Tim jumped out of the car and walked into the building, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. Glad to be away from the car. Glad to be away from the tension.

"Wha aah ya athooms?" Tim managed, turning slightly red as many strange faces turned at the sound he was making.

"What?" The man at the front desk frowned at the boy, "Whaddya want?"

"B…ath…ooms!"

"Bathrooms? Back 'dat way." The attendant flipped back to his magazine, keeping an eye on the kid to make sure he didn't lift anything on his way out.

Tim hurried to past a group of men playing cards at a card table. Even though he made it a point to keep his bandaged side of his face away from the table, the men they still took note.

"Hey sonny, what 'appened ta' yer face?" blared a man in a loud plaid shirt. "Looks like one helluva accident, eh? Piss off ya girlfriend or summin?"

Tim just nodded and dashed into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He glanced in the mirror and felt disgust wash over him.

"Two-Face has a rival in me," he thought. He touched his tongue to the wounded side of his mouth and gagged at the feeling of thread and skin that wasn't his own. The boy dropped his head, looking down into the sink, feeling the urge to vomit.

There was a knock on the door. "Someone in 'dere?" A strange voice bellowed.

Tim nodded, and then mentally smacked himself for doing so. "Yeah," he called out.

"Hurry it up, punk!"

Tim did so and left quickly, washing his hands. He opened to door and moved aside for the man. Walking towards the door he dried his hands on the seat of his pants. Overhead he could hear a sad country song playing.

Tim walked past the man at the front counter shook his head.

"Aintcha gonna buy nothin' boy?"

"Uhh…I don' ha' unny."

"What? What da' hell are ya' saying?!"

Tim gave the man an exasperated look and then shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don. Ha….Money."

"Well 'den don't use my bathroom next time! Ya' think we can afford hoodlums like you usin' all our services? Ya ain't even buying gas, are ya?"

Tim shook his head, not really caring what the man said. He hated places like this. "Sorry."

"Whatever punk, just 'member next time or you'll get more than just an owie on ya mouth!" The man pointed to Tim's face.

Tim plodded out of the station, giving the attendant the finger as he went. He walked back to the car, staring at his shoes. He got back into the car and picked his portable CD player back up.

"Are hungry or anything? If so we can pick up some food, or stop at a restaurant." Bruce was making the suggestion out of hope for conversation, a conversation that he would hate having, but one that was needed nevertheless.

Tim shook his head.

Three more hours, three more hours till they would get home, three more hours with Bruce.

Hip-hip-hooray.

…To be continued

Candelblaise: Hey buddy! Long time no chat! Why does it feel like I have known you for years and years now? I am not all that sure why, but it's cool! I got your comment on Xanga! Thanks, you rock! You should write too, I added you to my subscriptions, and scribbled in your guestbook. My other friends were jealous, they were like: who is this new friend of yours? And I was like: Oh-ho-ho, I know someone you don't!

Trunksblue: Oh, I hated that movie (ROTJ) it made me mad! I hated the Joker all the more after that, urg! I was happy when he died, but that was short lived, erg! Yes, Bruce usually is a jerk, as you said, but meh, what can ya' do? Right? Well, I guess I could do something, considering I'm writing it… hmm, what an idea! Tee-hee-hee, silly putty, right? Or not! Laughs

A Minor Pentatonic: Dare I ask, I think I will, what are GCSE's? What in the world are those? Perhaps a gang of yours, or maybe a secret organization? Well, I shall discover sooner or later! Probably later, knowing me. Bruce is an evil, evil man, and there is really nothing to say other than that. Well, there is, it's fun making him evil at times! Thanks for the review!

Ari: Hey! Do I know you? Just kidding! Thanks for a review, once more! Did I never e-mail you? Well, lets hope you got my E-mails! That or I am talking to someone who is pretending to be you! That'd be weird. You'll drill a hole in my head, eh? Well, guess what! You drill a hole in my head and I'll… do lord knows what! Probably tap dance on yours. See how you like that! Considers threat I think yours might hurt a little more though. Just a little, because I could get sharp heels and you know, that'd be worse.

Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara, gasp, Sara, Sara, Sara! Hello! I think I already answered all of the questions you asked in your review, so I won't bother doing it again. Unless you thought I was, like, someone else and ignored me. That happens a lot to me, people confuse me. Heh! So, you never E-mailed me back, now did you? I send a lovely e-mail and you don't answer! Oh well, Newsboys rock! Love ya!

Shadow Avenger: Yes, yes, yes, I did finally update, after ten years of making everyone wait! You see, the reason is a horrible story of heartbreak and trails! Maybe I'll write a fanfiction over it! Nah, I just lost my computer for a few weeks! Ok, for like, a month! It was hard to see my beloved computer leave, but now I have it back and all is well in the world once more. Or so I have come to believe. Thanks for the review!

Haydock: Oh man, it's been forever, or so it seems to me! I am happy you liked my little chapter of sorrow! I do to, but that is because I am obsessed with myself and think everything I do is wonderful. Dear lord, I am so humble, if there were an award for being humble I would hold it in my very hands. I'd put it on my car and drive around, showing everyone this award. Ok, now that I freaked you out I should tell you I am only kidding. But, you probably knew that. Yeah, poor Timmy is right. You know there is a club for Timmy, Silver and I own that club, we made it when we were younger, and still obsessed with Timmy. It's called the Tim Drake-ster Club. Tee-hee-hee. It's a lot of fun! Well, thanks for the review!

Silver! Don't lie to me, you didn't want to review my fanfictions, you hateful child! Just kidding! I am in a really weird mood girl, I was in Chemistry and even though I did bad on my test I was bouncing off the walls. You know how that goes (bouncing off the walls of course.) So now, I am writing and writing and can't stop. Hey! Guess what, our fanfiction will be the best, people will bow to us when they read it. They will tell their children's children about us and the Tim Drake-ster club. We'll be wipes away tear of happiness gods! I mean, more so than usual. Of course, we probably shouldn't voice that all that much, people might start a fan club over us. Sigh, we wouldn't want that again! Giggles. Thanks for the review my fanfiction friend.

Kim: Hey! Thanks for writing a review! I tried hard to get this chapter up as soon as I could. But sometimes I am slow, because I am a lazy butt. Kee-hee-hee. Just kidding, I lost my computer for a little while, so things went slow. Thanks for waiting!


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_Disclaimer: I don't own any Bat related characters, they all belong to the WB, DC Comics, and Bob Kane… and I suppose whoever else there is to give credit. _

_Fanfiction Written by: The BatThing_

_Edited by: Ariel_

_A HUGE thanks to Ariel, these last few chapters were edited and corrected by her! I must tell you, if you were at all moved – well, that was her doing. She made this fanfiction totally awesome, and gave the ending what it needed. So thank you soo much Ari, I totally owe you for all of that! _

--------------------------------------------------------

_**For Who You Are:**_

Chapter Thirteen

_-------------------------------------------_

It was getting late as Tim rested his head against the seat, staring out the window. The sky above was a deep, dark blue. The boy uttered a long sigh, and turned his gaze to the road they were traveling. No cars could be seen, which Tim found strange. In Gotham you couldn't go a block without running into a traffic jam. Bruce, hands gripping the steering wheel, said nothing. It had been an hour since they had left the gas station, and neither had said a word. But Tim could tell there was a lot that Bruce wanted to say, and he dreaded hearing it.

The boy gave a pitiful smile as he saw the moon. He wanted to be home. Oh, he wanted to be home so _bad_…and yet, he didn't even know where home was, and hadn't known for a long time. Two more hours of this ride were ahead of him. Batteries ran out about ten minutes ago, radio tuned to AM talk radio, and he was left with nothing but his thoughts. And, Tim would admit, he wasn't good at thinking. Thinking was upsetting. Thinking made him remember things he didn't exactly want to.

A billboard could be seen in the distance, telling travelers how to combat teen depression. The face of a youth could be seen, looking photogenic and optimistic. Tim wanted to punch him. He knew perfectly well that that clean-cut kid didn't have a clue what true grief was. His face was grim, but his eyes were sparkling.

_**Bang!**_

Tim yelped as the car slammed into something and he was flung forward. He grunted as his seatbelt locked, throwing him back and slamming his head against the seat. He could hear Bruce curse as the car spun and hit a light post on Tim's side. Glass shattered as Tim covered his ears and closed his eyes.

The car started making a strange noise but didn't move. Bruce sat up, turning to Tim; he tapped the boy on the back.

"Are you ok?" He had blood running down his forehead, having hit his head on the steering wheel.

The boy slowly lifted his head and looked around, "I-I think so. What happened?"

Bruce's eyes saw the shattered window and shook his head. "That was close." He placed a hand to his head and closed his eyes.

Tim looked at his window and saw what Bruce meant. Glass was everywhere, and the pole had been mangled. It was amazing that he wasn't scratched up more than he was. "It looks like you hit a deer."

Bruce turned to see the road and nodded. "It just ran into the car. I shouldn't have swerved to miss it. I should have just hit it straight on." He unbuckled his seat belt and opened his car door.

Tim crawled out after him—his door had been mangled by the impact. He felt pain surge though his hand and looked down at it. It was swelling rapidly.

Bruce took notice and gently lifted the boy's hand. "It's not broken. Looks like you just opened a blood vessel."

"Oh."

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. You just need some ice." He started for the road and bent beside the deer.

Tim slowly followed and then knelt down at Bruce's side. "Is it dead?"

"Yeah," Bruce looked both ways down the road. "Perfect." Bruce got up and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a number and scratched the back of his head as he waited. "Come on, work."

"Bruce, hey, Bruce!" Tim got to his feet. "A car is coming, look!"

The man nodded and grabbed Tim by the arm, pulling him to the side of the road. A battered old pickup truck came to a slow stop and a window was rolled down. A man nodded at the two. "Looks like you are having some troubles."

Bruce nodded. "We hit a deer."

"So I see. You both ok?" The man looked questioningly at Tim's face, seeing the bandage. "Your car looks totaled."

"I think it is," Bruce shook his head. "You wouldn't happen to have a phone on you?"

"I'm afraid not, but I can give you two a lift if you would like. I'm headed home, which is ten miles thataway. You can call from there if you would like."

Bruce nodded. "That would be fine, thank you."

"But first things first, let's move that deer out of the road." Tim watched as Bruce and the man moved the deer out of the way, and soon he found himself cramped between the man, whose name was Ted, and Bruce.

"Where are you from?" Ted questioned as he drove.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Gotham City."

"You're a good two hours away from home then, what brought you all the way out here?"

"Family matters," Bruce told him briefly.

There was silence the rest of the way. When they got to the town Tim, a city boy born and raised, was amazed at the short stretch of Main Street with its single traffic light. They pulled into a small drive, and Tim frowned at a tiny house.

"This is where I live, come on in and use the phone." The man got out of the car and held the door open for Tim, who decided instead to follow Bruce. He didn't like the way Ted glanced at his face…didn't like anyone looking at his face, for that matter. Ted seemed to notice, and as Bruce called, the man tried to start up a conversation. "How old are you now?"

"16."

"What happened to your face?"

Tim shrugged.

The man looked put out. "I have a kid around your age, he lives with his mother. Haven't seen him for a few years now."

The boy nodded, not really caring.

"So, you and your dad seem to be stuck here for the night." Ted nodded, "ayup, I don't see anyway that you are going to find a tow truck in this place."

Tim's heart sank; he hadn't considered this.

"So, you have anyone that is going to worry about you at home?" Ted looked at Tim, studying him. "Your mom or anything?"

The boy shook his head no.

"You don't have a mom?"

'Shut up!' Tim screamed inwardly. "No," he said softly, not wanting to attempt speech.

"What was it, divorce? She leave y'all?"

Tim shrugged again. "Don't want to talk about it."

Ted nodded. "That's all you have to say. You know, that's why I don't like the city. Things always are bad there."

Noncommittal nod.

"No need to get angry, I was just saying."

"Not mad," Tim told him patiently, "Just agreeing."

"You didn't sound like you were agreeing. I just been to the city, and I know from personal experience." Ted nodded at his own words, "all those people, none of 'em happy. That's how I lost my kid, you know."

"I'm sorry." Tim wasn't sorry.

"His mother went off and cheated on me, and next thing I knew the court was saying that I couldn't keep my own kid. No reason a 'tall."

'I doubt that,' Tim thought.

"All right. Thank you." Bruce hung up the phone and walked to the two. "Apparently they can't help us until morning. Is there a hotel nearby that we can stay at?"

Ted said he'd drive them to the inn, and so once more they piled into the truck and started back towards Main Street. Ted threw out some more questions, this time for Bruce.

"So, y'all are from Gotham and your name is Bruce. Ya know, I seen some magazine covers…are you Bruce Wayne, the millionaire?" Ted gave a sideways glance to the man.

"That's correct. Pleased to meet you."

"Well, welcome to our parts, hope it isn't so horrible that you don't come back," Ted smiled at the two.

Bruce just nodded, not smiling in return.

They came to the inn and Ted stopped the truck. "Well, see you boys later." He flipped his hand up and gave a wave.

Tim followed Bruce out of the truck and turned as Bruce pulled out a crumpled 20. "Thank you for all your help." The man looked at it and nodded, taking it without the slightest hesitation. "Thankee much. Goodnight."

Tim glared after the truck and then walked towards the inn, with Bruce following. They came to the front desk where a tired attendant sat, looking perturbed at the new arrivals.

"Can I help you?" he asked grudgingly.

Bruce nodded. "We need a place to stay for the night. Our car broke down and we seem stuck in this town. So, if you have anything, we'll take it."

"We usually don't hand out rooms so late at night, but I'll give it to you. Say, what do you know about that man as drove you here?"

"He said his name was Ted. He helped us out." Bruce quirked an eyebrow as the man shook his head, looking at Tim. "Is something the matter?"

"You could say so. I wouldn't trust that man. If you know what's good for you, y'all would pick up and leave tomorrow."

"Excuse me?"

The man scratched his head. " We-ell, there's a rumor that Ted, Ted Krane, killed his own wife and kid. There ain't no proof against him yet, so he sticks around. He seems to have taken a liking to you."

Bruce glanced out the screen door. "Well, he didn't seem dangerous when we were talking, but I'll take your word for it. Thank you." The man paid for two rooms and both he and Tim headed up the stairs.

"He said his wife and kid were in Gotham," Tim whispered, "when he was talking to me."

"It's none of our business," Bruce replied as he came to his room. "See you in the morning."

Tim nodded and headed a little further down the hall, coming to his room and entering. He flipped on the light and walked to the old bed in the corner. He took off his jacket and tossed it aside, then proceeded to remove his shoes. 'Man, this sucks," he thought as he kicked of his shoes and then pulled off his shirt.

The boy locked his door, tossed his clothes into a corner and then turned off the lights. He made a dash to his bed, and climbed into the covers.

He lay, wide-awake, staring at the ceiling. There were no bright lights like he was used to, nothing but a dim glow from the moon, so sick and pale in the city. The boy turned on his belly and placed his chin on his hands, and soon, drifted into a shallow slumber.

It was around three in the morning when Tim awoke, his eyes fluttered open and he rolled on his side with a low groan. He sat up quickly at the sight of seeing his window wide open. "What the--?"

"Stupid," a voice growled from behind him.

Tim flipped around only to have two hands grab his neck. The boy thrashed around as a large man pinned him down on the bed.

"Looks like that fancy Bruce Wayne isn't in this room, is he? Well, you better speak… where is he?"

Tim found an opening took advantage of it; he smashed his knee into the man's gut and then yelped as he tumbled to the ground. He tried to grab some of the covers to stop his fall, but it only caused him to become entangled in the blankets.

"Urg," the man was back up and coming at Tim within a few seconds, but the boy wasn't slow either.

Tim crawled towards the door, scrambling forwards and clawing the ground. He yelled out as the man grabbed his shoulder and pushed him down.

"Wrong move buddy," the man hissed as he grabbed Tim's hair and pulled him up. "Where is Bruce Wayne? I know you're his kid."

Tim thrashed widely and managed to get an arm free, and clawed at the man's face. In response, his head was slammed into the floor, hard.

Suddenly the man's face changed to the image of the Joker. Tim gave a small whimper and squeezed his eyes close. 'Not again,' he thought, 'don't let me shame Bruce again. Don't let this man hurt me. I don't want to hurt again.'

The man kept a strong grip on Tim's hair. "You had best tell me now boy, if you know what's good for you. This is your last chance." The man released Tim's arm in an attempt to go for a knife, which was a wrong move on his part.

The boy, pinned to the ground, using his free hand wrapped it around the man's neck. "This is _your_ last chance," Tim hissed as the man released the boy's hair and pulled at Tim's hands. The man struggled against being held down, but nothing came from it. Tim looked down at the man, but all he could see was the huge smile of the Joker.

"No," he screamed, "NO!"

The man felt the grasp around his neck tighten and he threw himself at the boy, forcing Tim to go tumbling across the floor. "You have a strong grip," the man pulled out the knife.

Tim didn't bother moving, he just saw the image he feared. Tears plopped down his cheeks as he shivered. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not sure why.

SLAM! The door opened and his attacked twisted around, ready to attack any intruder. "Who the hell?"

Bruce's voice broke through, deep and grim. "Step away from him."

Tim didn't bother to look up, he didn't bother to do anything other then close his eyes. Shame filled his body, what was he doing? A common criminal just took down Robin, the Boy Wonder. And Bruce was there, to see his red eyes and to know that the Batman's partner was a failure. Bruce was there to save his sorry skin. Again.

Pathetic.

Tim looked up, angry. Angry for being so pathetic - angry that the Joker still had the power to cripple his defenses. He saw whoever-it-was facing Bruce and the anxious innkeeper. 'Stupid move,' the boy thought. He launched himself at the man, tackling him and bringing him down to the floor. Tim ripped the knife from the man's hand and shoved it down into the floor. He then smashed a fist into the man's face. He didn't stop after a few blows, he just kept hitting.

It was Bruce who lifted him off the man and gave the boy a shove away. Bruce grabbed the thug by the collar while the innkeeper rushed downstairs to greet the oncoming sirens.

"You know Ted, don't you?" Bruce grabbed the man's face. "Don't you?"

The man didn't speak a word.

"You aren't answering me. Who are you, and how did you find out I was here?"

"I don't have to tell you nothin'."

Bruce held him up a bit higher, but his expression didn't change, save for a look of smoldering anger in his dark eyes. "You're asking for a good long stay in jail, you know."

The man scoffed at the words. "Like you got any power over that."

"You attacked my ward, you scum; I think we can make your story worse or better. It's up to you. Just answer the question."

The man finally nodded. "Yep. That Ted put me up to it, said there was some money in it for me if I could get you hostage."

"Ted was wrong," Bruce told him. At that moment the police entered, cuffed the man, and led him away. Bruce walked over to Tim and pulled Tim up by the arm. "Come on, let's go."

It wasn't long before Tim found himself in Bruce's hotel room, huddling on the bed. He had just given his account on what happened and now sat, waiting for Bruce to come back from talking with the police.

The door opened, and Bruce came in, closing the door decisively behind him. He then went over to the window and locked it, drawing shut the brown curtains.

Tim sat, red-hot shame replacing the numbness he felt just a minute ago. He wanted this night to end. He wanted Bruce to forgive him, but knew that wasn't going to happen. Some harsh words, followed by stony silence, no doubt. Tim thought about running away—Bruce couldn't use a partner like him, and he didn't need a son. 'Just get it over with,' Tim wanted to scream. But he just clutched his hands tightly together, and hung his head.

"Hey…are you okay?"

Tim looked up; his cheeks were hot. He knew Bruce had seen him crying, and there wasn't any doubt that Bruce had saved him – again. He waited for the explosion.

The man did something then that Tim definitely did not expect. He swiftly knelt before the boy and caught Tim's chin, looking concernedly into his eyes. "Hey, he didn't hurt you, right? You're fine." He tried to convince a shivering Tim, "What's the matter?"

"I-I'm sorry," Tim whispered with a hoarse voice. He stammered though his words. "I failed again." He wrenched himself from Bruce's grip, but that only made Bruce reach out and grab Tim at the back of his neck.

"You took the man down Tim, what do you mean 'lose again'? When did you ever lose?"

"The Joker," Tim's voice broke, and he shook his head, mentally kicking himself. Why couldn't he just be brave like Dick, or strong like Bruce? Why did he always go back to being a scared little kid?

Bruce shook his head disbelievingly. "Tim what do you mean? You never lost to the Joker! Of anything that was my fault—even I have lost to the Clown Prince of Crime."

"How can something like that be your fault? I was the one he caught, I was the one who wasn't ready, I was the one who couldn't fight. I failed! I can't go back on the streets with you after this! And tonight…." Tim caught his breath, trying to hold back teas. "Tonight, I-- I saw him. The Joker."

Bruce looked confused. "What do you mean, you saw him?"

The boy clutched his head and shut his eyes as hot, salty tears began to flow. "I mean…I don't know, I was taking the man down, and then…then he just appeared. His face. I saw his horrible, grinning face, and I didn't mean to – but I got scared."

Bruce got to his feet. Two wet eyes followed him.

"Bruce," Tim whispered, looking down at the bedspread, "I'm sorry."

Bruce hesitated for a moment, but then sat down on the bed next to Tim. He put his hands gently on Tim's shoulders, and then drew the boy close. "Don't be sorry, Tim. You aren't to blame. I should have known something like that could happen. It's called 'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.' It's only natural to have flashbacks of something horrible that happens to you, especially when you're in a very similar situation. I should have realized that something like this would happen—it was wrong of me to treat you so coldly after…the incident. I thought you were mad at me, for putting Peter and Crystal before you, for not saving you in time. Can you forgive me?"

Tim didn't understand. Forgive Bruce? What happened to the shame? Where was the shame that he knew Bruce must feel towards him? Instead of scolding, Bruce was hugging him. Tim shook his head and buried it in Bruce's shoulder. He let the tears flow, not sure why he was so upset, but upset nevertheless. "Y-you aren't ashamed of me?" Tim's voice was muffled.

"No. Why would I be ashamed?"

"Because of who I am, because of what I did."

"You did nothing to be ashamed of," Bruce said in a soft voice. "And it's because of who you are that you are capable of being my partner."

A long silence followed. Tim had been on edge for weeks, but slowly he began to relax, and it wasn't long before the boy was drifting off to sleep. Bruce gently shifted him from his arms to the bed. Tim's worries were gone, and a peaceful expression had finally settled on his face.

"Not just making you capable," Bruce said in a low voice, talking to himself. "But making you worthy."

_The End_

* * *

Haydock14: You know how in your review you said: how come we want to beat and torture our favorite character, I so agree! Why is that? I have no idea, I was talking to my sister about it and she told me it's the weird side of us. I don't like that so much, but I guess it's an answer. I told Peter and Crystal goodbye for you, they didn't say much though. ;) Hee-hee, yes awards! I'm right with you in the awards, bleh! And thanks soooo much for another brill review ;) It's sad to think that this is the last time I'll be able to thank you for it in this fanfiction. 

A Minor Pentatonic: Wow, you don't live in America? Nuh-uh! I'm so naive it kills me at times. As weird as this sounds, I feel like I'm talking to a celebrity. I mean, I have a friend from Canada, but who cares about Canada! Dodges Silver's Anger. ;). Hee-hee-hee, thanks so much for the review, thanks for all your wonderful reviews! I love reading them!

Silver: Hey, I'm a gas station person… I don't think we can be friends anymore because of that uncaring statement…KIDDING! I'm not really a gas station person, even though you already know that. Yes, that music video of our man Timmy was simply amazing, like I told you a thousand times before; I play it all the time! And everyone loves the music! I can't wait to see your chapter of our fan fiction! I'm so excited about it! Yea! Bleh, have a great New Years you! ;)

Trunksblue: Yea for another review from you! I must ask though, how did you come up with your penname? I mean, I made mine in seventh grade, and I was stupid… but yours has me wondering. I like your name, and just thought I'd ask how you got around to having it! Ha-ha-ha, you know where you said: _It's odd that our Tim and Bruce are thinking the same thing at the same time._ Well, I must agree! Hee-hee, it makes for an easy chapter though! Yep! ;). Yes, I saw both. OMG, I almost threw up when I saw the real one, I was so grossed out. I mean, I know mine was gory, but man! _Update son!_ Erm, either you're me father or you had a spelling mistake. ;) Hee-hee, I love reading that again and again, it makes me laugh!

Candleblaise: Hey, hey, hey thanks for another wonderful review! I don't know if you ever read the reply in my Xanga guest book to you… but one of my stupid friends said something mean about my puppy! . So just ignore her ;). Puppy is really wonderful, and my friend is just jealous! I hope you like this chapter, it was a little weird I admit, but I didn't know how else to end it, ya' know? Well, tell me what you think of this different style of mine.

Ari: If you will edit my other of my stuff then I am sending it your way. Like: Oh Silent Prayer, yeah, if you'll have it I'll throw it at you ;). Thanks so much for all the help, this last chapter was awesome, and I mean that! Grins I am so happy you made those changes, they are totally what I was looking for!


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